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It was the midwinter vacation at the school where Roberta taught and at the equally desirable establishment where Ruth was taking a carefully selected course of study.
Such different manners from ours yes, yes, yes such different manners from ours! Do you make a long stay in England, now you have come back?" "I hardly know," said Midwinter. "I have been obliged to alter my plans, and to come to England unexpectedly." He hesitated a little; his manner changed, and he added, in lower tones: "A serious anxiety has brought me back.
It was a raw, midwinter day and the wind drifting in from the north-east presaged a storm. But the magnificent beast, black as a raven's wing, did not mind it. With head low, tail almost touching the dash-board, and eyes sparkling with animation, she clipped along with great strides. The parson gave a half-audible chuckle as he settled back in the seat and gripped the reins more firmly.
The promised letter has just reached me. No parting words have been exchanged between them: it was all over before Midwinter reached Somersetshire. Armadale met him at the rectory gate with the news that Mr. Brock was dead.
One midwinter day of 1892, in Boston, where I had been cast up from old ocean, so to speak, a year or two before, I was cogitating whether I should apply for a command, and again eat my bread and butter on the sea, or go to work at the shipyard, when I met an old acquaintance, a whaling-captain, who said: "Come to Fairhaven and I'll give you a ship. But," he added, "she wants some repairs."
On midwinter day, after the attendant festivities, Atkinson called the members together and outlined his plans for the coming season. He says, "Two alternatives lay before us. One was to go South and try to discover the fate of Captain Scott's party. I thought it most likely that they had been lost in a crevasse on the Beardmore Glacier.
It was sometime in the winter Philip's first winter with the Faringfields that the next outbreak came, between him and Master Edward. If ever the broad mansion of the Faringfields looked warm and welcoming, it was in midwinter.
The language was barely intelligible; sentences were left unfinished; words were misplaced one for the other. Every line recorded the protest of the weary brain against the merciless will that had forced it into action. Midwinter tore up the sheet of paper as he had torn up the other sheets before it, and, sinking under the struggle at last, laid his weary head on the pillow.
I kept his ugly name through all my after-wanderings, and I have enough of the old leaven left in me to like the sound of it still. Midwinter or Armadale, never mind my name now, we will talk of that afterward; you must know the worst of me first." "Why not the best of you?" said Mr. Brock, gently. "Thank you, sir; but I am here to tell the truth.
A. E. Winship, of the Journal of Education, Boston, had the following editorial in the issue of June 21, 1906: It is now fourteen years since D. E. McClure spoke into being the Hesperia movement, which is a great union of educational and farmer forces, in a midwinter Chautauqua, as it were.
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