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Diagonally opposite the southeast corner of the desecrated park are the buildings of the ambitious City College, and east of them a beautiful church edifice always spoken of as "Starr King's Church." Very likely, seeing the church, I might be reminded of one of Mr.
The pride of the house of Starr, the wealth of the house of Delevan, the glory of the house of Endicott, were they not all hers, this one beautiful baby who lay in her arms to tend and to love. So mused Morton as she hummed: "O hush thee my babie, thy sire was a knight, Thy mother a ladie, both gentle and bright "
We admired Hoorn as it is, but it would break their hearts if they could see it, given up to cheese, and only of importance in the cheese world. We were not in the Museum long, but Mr. Starr had suffered tortures meanwhile, and looked ten years older when we came out. Tibe had been asleep on the floor of the tonneau while we were in the market-place before lunch, so nobody had seen him.
But to-night the moon is in the last quarter, shorn of her just proportions, and friend Jack's grand silver plate looks more like a barber's basin." "Oh, Mr. Starr, what a base comparison!" he exclaimed, "I was just going to begin a sonnet to the moon, but your barber's basin has destroyed all chance of an inspiration." Gradually the moon ascended the heavens.
He went up on the shoulder of the man who was to watch outside the rear wall, and straddled the wall for a brief reconnoiter. Evidently the Junta felt safe in their hidden little room, for no guard had been left in the yard. The back door was locked, and Starr opened it as silently as he could with his pass key.
The first was the blue crocheted cap which she wore; he did not know that it was called a breakfast-cap and that it was very stylish, for Starr, you must remember, lived apart from any intimate home life that would familiarize him with such fripperies. The cap surprised him, but he liked the look of it even though he kept that liking to himself.
Simon Ford, the foreman of the Dochart pit, then fifty-five years of age, and other managers and overseers, surrounded him. James Starr took off his hat. The miners, cap in hand, kept a profound silence. This farewell scene was of a touching character, not wanting in grandeur. "My friends," said the engineer, "the time has come for us to separate.
Starr had been half asleep too, riding with one leg over the saddle horn to rest his muscles, and with his hat brim pulled down over his eyebrows to shade his eyes from the pitiless glare of New Mexico sunlight.
Poor Billy Blow sank down, thoroughly tired out. Midget laughed. "I hope it's a long ride," he said. "I'm afraid," spoke Miss Starr, "it won't be, Midge. See," and she opened a little purse, showing only a few silver coins. "I have some money in a bank in New York, but that does not help us at the present moment." "I sent all I had to my poor wife," announced the clown dejectedly.
Babs stood gaping at the tree and never saying a word. "Say, Mumzie, you jus' said 'Would be his first stop' but he's been and done it!" exclaimed Don. "Oh, but he hasn't distributed the gifts. Don't you think he will want to hand them about himself?" asked Mrs. Starr. "Maybe he won't have time, you know. He has to go so far to-night.
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