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The Mason arrived almost as soon as he did and renewed her work. She only seemed a little wilder, says the narrator, in conclusion. Why were you not here with me, revered master, on the banks of the Aygues, which is a vast expanse of pebbles for three-fourths of the year and a mighty torrent when it rains?
In the following year Colonel Mason, an American, surveyed the lake, of which he made an accurate topographical chart. In the year 1880, Mr.
I had known the Prophet well, for I had met him a hundred times in his gilt litter, and we always called him Rui, the rich. I did my duty by all three, I was driven away with the usual stoning, and then I arranged the inward parts of the bodies with my mates. Those of the Prophet are to be preserved later in an alabaster canopus, those of the mason and the girl were put back in their bodies.
In fact, I think I'd refuse to buy any machinery if I couldn't get it from such a dear friend as Worthington was. It wasn't his fault that I wasn't sent to the penitentiary." "No, that's right, boy." Old Lawyer Mason was quietly reminiscent. "He tried his best. It seemed to me in those days he was more of a persecutor than prosecutor." "Let's forget it." Houston laughed uneasily.
"It would hardly do at Lent," said Madeline, in a serious tone. "No, perhaps not at Lent exactly." Peregrine and Augustus Staveley were walking on in front, not perhaps as well satisfied with the day as the rest of the party. Augustus, on leaving the church, had made a little effort to assume his place as usual by Miss Furnival's side, but by some accident of war, Mason was there before him.
Suddenly his gaze settled upon one face amid the throng. A moment of hesitation followed; then a quick whisper of excuse to the waiting divinity in the chair, and the perturbed president pressed his way toward the door. Buck Mason stood there on guard, carelessly leaning against the post, his star of office gleaming beneath the light.
They are like so many sons of soldiers who have fathers in the battle. The little mason gazed and gazed, and trembled more and more, and my father noticed it and said: "Go home, my boy; go at once to your father, and you will find him safe and tranquil; go!" The little mason went off, turning round at every step.
Montague had come on shore to ascertain from Mr. Mason what likelihood there was of an early attack by the natives. "Where's Alice?" whispered the boy to Poopy, as the girl entered the church, and seated herself beside a little midshipman, who looked at her with a mingled expression of disgust and contempt, and edged away. "Got a little headache, hee! hee!"
John Mason, a native of Linlithgow, "one of the most accomplished preachers and pastors of his day," was appointed Minister of the Scotch Presbyterian Church, New York, in 1761. Finding the Revolutionary soldiers short of wadding he distributed the church hymn books among them, with the exhortation, "Now, boys, put Watts into them."
Ed Mason voted for a horse, and I for a bicycle. "I don't see how we can dig up much treasure, anyway," was Ed Mason's comment, "not even if we find where it's buried." "Why not?" "What have we got to dig with?" That was true, we had forgotten to bring shovels. "Never mind, this is only prospecting," Mr. Daddles reminded us.
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