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"Young man!" cried Mr. Soden, and the explosive voice seemed to come from the hell that he had created "young man! you who have followed the counsel of evil companions" here he paused and looked about, as if trying to find the man he wanted, while Walter crept up close to Bud and shaded his face "I mean you who have chosen evil pursuits and who can not get free from bad habits and associations that are dragging you down to hell!

Soden was as terrible as usual. Bud heard him without flinching. Small, who sat farther forward, listened with pious approval. Mr. Soden, out of distorted figures pieced together from different passages of Scripture, built a hell, not quite, Miltonic, nor yet Dantean, but as Miltonic and Dantean as his unrefined imagination could make it.

Half-way up the long steep hill that leads from Soden to Königstein, a rough road branches off to the left, plunging suddenly into a valley, and passing through the little village of Altenhain. As you walk down this steep rocky incline, the Taunus Mountains rise up grand and high in ever-changing panorama.

Soden's awful face seemed to answer that he surely must "well, then, I hope you won't send me to prison" this to Squire Hawkins, whose face reassured him "but, oh! I don't see how I can!" But one look at Mr. Soden assured him that he could and that he must, and so, with an agony painful to the spectators, he told the story in driblets.

There'll be trouble out at the Downs some of these days, if she doesn't clear him out or he gives over drinking. Don't you serve him any more, do you hear, Jim? Hand him over to Brennan if he comes in again," he added to his barman. "Well, what's the news?" Dudgeon exclaimed as he got out of his buggy and limped over to Soden. "The leg's not all right yet, I see?" Soden said.

Her words, shouted at the top of her voice, rang through the place and out on the roadway, where Brennan was still struggling with her rearing horse, and Soden and Allnut stood by as sympathetic onlookers. "If you will come in, the manager will explain the matter to you," Harding said. "Don't talk to me about explaining," she shouted in answer. "Where are my deeds?

In the neighbourhood were the watering-places and gambling-tables; Homburg and Wiesbaden, Soden and Baden-Baden, were within an easy ride or short railway journey, and Frankfort was constantly visited by all the idle Princes of Germany.

I thought the figure was the most nearly perfect image of heavenly womanhood that I had ever looked upon, and I could have gladly given my whole hour to sitting I could almost say kneeling before it in silent contemplation. I found the curator of the Museum, Mr. Soden Smith, shared my feelings with reference to the celestial loveliness of this figure.

"As I found it," he said as he pulled it to until it was ajar. "When we closed for the night it was locked and bolted. Look at it." Durham carefully examined it. "Opened by an expert burglar," he said quietly. "No one but a master of the craft could have done it so neatly. Show me the till." Soden led them into the bar.

On the 12th of July I saw Minna off to Soden, and the same day went to reside at the embassy, where they assigned me a pleasant little room looking out upon the garden, with a view of the Tuileries in the distance. In a pool in the garden there were two black swans, to which, in a dreamy sort of way, I felt strangely attracted.