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The stars were clear, colored, and jewel-like, but not frosty. A faint silvery vapor stood for the Milky Way. All around me the black fir-points stood upright and stock-still.
"Whose lives are connected more or less," she repeated after him, in a steely tone. It seemed to me that I had received my cue to leave. I bowed myself away, and went about my duties. As we steamed bravely through the Straits of Babelmandeb, with Perim on our left, rising lovely through the milky haze, I came on deck again, and they were still near where I had left them an hour before.
The formula is as follows, for which the world is indebted to Canon Beechy: In 8 ounces of absolute alcohol dissolve 5 drachms of anhydrous bromide of cadmium. The solution will be milky. Let it stand at least twenty-four hours, or until perfectly clear; it will deposit a white powder. Decant carefully into an 8-ounce bottle, and add to it a drachm of strong hydrochloric acid.
We know that the roots of trees insert themselves into seams in the rocks, and force the parts asunder. This force is measurable and is often very great. Its seat seems to be in the soft, milky substance called the cambium layer under the bark. These minute cells when their force is combined may become regular rock-splitters.
Slow, puffing and wheezing, the train made its way along Clear Creek cañon, crawled across the newly built trestle which had been erected to take the place of that which had gone out with the spring flood of the milky creek, then jangled into Denver.
A tuft of soft green grass furnished a ready mat, on which she wiped her small foot, not invisible to Burr while he modestly inspected the mussel shells and polished pebbles washed ashore by the plashing ripples. From the beach he picked a bone-like fragment resembling milky quartz. This he brought to the lady, who had chosen a mossy seat on the trunk of a fallen sycamore.
It is said that the Weaving Maiden in turn threw her spindle at the Herd Boy; but that she did not hit him, the spindle falling down to one side of him. The Herd Boy is a constellation in Aquila, the Weaving Maiden one in Lyra. The Silver River which separates them is the Milky Way. The Seventh Day of the seventh month is the festival of their reunion.
Because of the breeze the mosquitoes did not trouble her there, and she stood a long time watching the town's few faint lights watching the stars, the thronging stars of the Milky Way dreaming dreaming dreaming. Yesterday had almost faded from her, for youth lives only in tomorrow youth in tomorrow, age in yesterday, and none of us in today which is all we really have.
Claire wanted to flee, but Oh, she couldn't drive any farther! She couldn't! The floor of her room was the more bare in contrast to a two-foot-square splash of gritty ingrain carpet in front of the sway-backed bed. On the bed was a red comforter that was filthy beyond disguise. The yellow earthenware pitcher was cracked. The wall mirror was milky. Claire had been spoiled.
A few days before and they had not come; a few days more and larger leaves would hide them perfectly. Just at this time, too, along the roadsides, big hawthorn shrubs and wild plum were in blossom, and in the sheltered fields the mossy sod was pied with white and purple violets, whose flowerets so outstripped their half-grown leaves that blue and milky ways were seen in woodland glades.
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