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Putter's best robe about her feet, the mare leaped forward, and they were off, out of the circle and flying up the hill on the hard snow-tracks. "Whew!" exclaimed Victoria, "what a relief! Are you staying in that dear little house?" she asked, with a glance at the Widow Peasley's. "Yes," said Austen. "I wish I were." He looked at her shyly.

By the dim lucency of Putter, faint to most of us as a rushlight in the act of going out, the available part of our imagination must try to figure, in a kind of Obliterated-Rembrandt way, this glorious Evening; for there was but one, December 3d-4th, Friedrich having to leave early on the 4th. Here is Putter's record, given in the third person: The King said:

Crewe, about nine o'clock our candidate having a piercing eye of his own. Mr. Putter's coat, being brushed back, has revealed six cigars. "Why, yes yes," says Mr. Watling. "Is he a delegate?" Mr. Crewe demanded. "Why, I guess he must be," says Mr. Watling. But Mr. Putter is not a delegate. "You've stood up and made a grand fight, Mr.

KING. "In German History much is still buried; many important Documents lie hidden in Monasteries." Putter answered "schicklich fitly;" that is all we know of Putter's answer. KING. "Struv, Struvius; him I don't know." PUTTER. "It is a pity Barri had not known German." KING. "Barri was a Lorrainer; Barri must have known German!" "LEIPZIG, 6th December, 1762.

Crewe, about nine o'clock our candidate having a piercing eye of his own. Mr. Putter's coat, being brushed back, has revealed six cigars. "Why, yes yes," says Mr. Watling. "Is he a delegate?" Mr. Crewe demanded. "Why, I guess he must be," says Mr. Watling. But Mr. Putter is not a delegate. "You've stood up and made a grand fight, Mr.

The British were at Putter's Kraal and Sterkstrom, some twenty odd miles distant by the railroad, which they controlled up to Molteno, nine miles from Stormberg. The troops, 2,500 in number, had been marching, or in open railroad trucks, since early morning of Saturday, December 9, when at 9 P.M. they detrained at Molteno.

Putter's best robe about her feet, the mare leaped forward, and they were off, out of the circle and flying up the hill on the hard snow-tracks. "Whew!" exclaimed Victoria, "what a relief! Are you staying in that dear little house?" she asked, with a glance at the Widow Peasley's. "Yes," said Austen. "I wish I were." He looked at her shyly.

"Tom, I don't know any man I'd rather take than you," said Austen. The unsuspecting Tom was too good-natured to be offended, and shortly after dinner Austen found himself in the process of being looked over by a stout gentleman named Putter, proprietor of Putter's Livery, who claimed to be a judge of men as well as horses. Austen had been through his stalls and chosen a mare.

Putter's best robe about her feet, the mare leaped forward, and they were off, out of the circle and flying up the hill on the hard snow-tracks. "Whew!" exclaimed Victoria, "what a relief! Are you staying in that dear little house?" she asked, with a glance at the Widow Peasley's. "Yes," said Austen. "I wish I were." He looked at her shyly.

"Tom, I don't know any man I'd rather take than you," said Austen. The unsuspecting Tom was too good-natured to be offended, and shortly after dinner Austen found himself in the process of being looked over by a stout gentleman named Putter, proprietor of Putter's Livery, who claimed to be a judge of men as well as horses. Austen had been through his stalls and chosen a mare.