United States or Cuba ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Nothing will do but we must off to Rome on a pilgrimage, and what's the good of that, I want to know? If it's praying that's to be done, the dear saints know she's at it from morning till night, and lately she's up and down three or four times a night with some prayer or other." "Well, well," said Jocunda, "who started this idea?"
His was the crucifix that Abelard prayed to; a lock of Eloisa's hair; the dagger with which Felton stabbed the Duke of Buckingham; the first finished sketch of the Jocunda; Titian's colossal outline of Peter Aretine; a mummy of an Egyptian king; a feather of a Phoenix; a piece of Noah's Ark, etc. 'Were the articles authentic? asks Hazlitt; and he answers his own question 'What matter?
"You do?" said Jocunda. "You'd better tell me. I know fifty times as much about such things as she." "Dear Jocunda, I will tell you, too; but I love Mother Theresa, and I ought to give it to her first." "As you please, then," said Jocunda. "Well, put your flowers here by the fountain, where the spray will keep them cool, and we will go to her." Blessed are the shadows of porches and cloisters!
Her rule in the Convent was even and serene; but those who came to her flock from the real world, from the trials and temptations of a real experience, were always enigmas to her, and she could scarcely comprehend or aid them. In fact, since in the cloister, as everywhere else, character will find its level, it was old Jocunda who was the real governess of the Convent.
There's old Jocunda is a sensible woman, who knew something of the world before she went there, but the Mother Theresa knows no more than a baby; and they would take her in, and make her as white and as thin as that moon yonder now the sun has risen; and little good should I have of her, for I have no vocation for the convent, it would kill me in a week.
Add to this, she was hump-backed, and twisted in her figure; and one needs all the force of her very good-natured, kindly smile to redeem the image of poor old Jocunda from association with that of some Thracian witch, and cause one to see in her the appropriate portress of a Christian institution.
No JOCUNDA, nor TRIUMPH, nor VICTORIA, nor any other high-titled fruit that ever took the first prize at an agricultural fair, is half so delicate and satisfying as the wild strawberry that dropped into my mouth, under the hemlock tree, beside the Swiftwater. A touch of surprise is essential to perfect sweetness.
A pilgrimage isn't bad, after all; one sees a world of fine things, and something new every day." "But who is to look after our garden and dress our trees?" "Ah, now, there's Antonio, and old Meta his mother," said Jocunda, with a knowing wink at Agnes. "I fancy there are friends there that would lend a hand to keep things together against the little one comes borne.
Old Jocunda, the porteress, never failed to make a sensation with her one stock-story of how she found the child standing on her head and crying, having been put into this reversed position in consequence of climbing up on a high stool to get her little fat hand into the vase of holy water, failing in which Christian attempt, her heels went up and her head down, greatly to her dismay.
Hence the English strawberries of to-day surpass ours in these respects, but are wanting in that aromatic pungency that characterizes most of our berries. The Jocunda, Triumph, Victoria, are foreign varieties of the Grandiflora species; while the Hovey, the Boston Pine, the Downer, are natives of this country.
Word Of The Day