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The progress of civilization has changed the family from a barony to a republic; but the law has not kept pace with the advance of ideas, manners, and customs." W.W. STORY'S Treatise on Contracts not under Seal, § 84, third edition, p. 89. We see advertisements, occasionally, of "Homes for Aged Women," and more rarely "Homes for Aged Men."
"That story's ended!" observed the pacha in a rage. "Of all the nuisances I ever encountered, these two men have beat them all. Allah forbid that I should again meet with a says I, or you know!" "Your highness is all wisdom," observed Mustapha; "may such ever be the fate of those who cannot tell their stories without saying what they said."
Foster read them slowly, his eyes lighting up as he did so. "Looks as if it was true," said he. "Let me see! Fort . Yes, that's the th infantry. Two of their boys were killed at Sidney last summer by some of the same gang, and the regiment's sworn vengeance. Major, if this story's on the square, that crowd's goose is cooked, and don't you forget it! I say, you must give me a hand in."
But he would rather have had it from some one else. He twisted his cigar across his lips and spat a piece of tobacco leaf out of his mouth. "Wal," he began deliberately, "I don't guess it's good med'cine talkin' names. But I don't mind sayin' right here this thing's made me feel mean. The story's come straight from that that Jonah gal's farm. Yep, it makes me feel mean.
She had come hither with E S and her two little brothers, and with our R , the whole under the charge of Mrs. Story's nursery-maids. U and E crossed, not over, but beneath the water, through a grotto, and exchanged greetings with us.
She had come hither with E S and her two little brothers, and with our R , the whole under the charge of Mrs. Story's nursery-maids. U and E crossed, not over, but beneath the water, through a grotto, and exchanged greetings with us.
"No matter for that, my lad," replied the Captain, with a knowing look, "no matter for that. If you know how a story's going to end, it spoils the telling of it, don't you see? Consider that I didn't get cast away, in short, that you know nothing of what happened to me, only that I went to sea, and leave the rest to turn up as we go along. And now, good-day to all of you, my dears.
But forgive me, oh, Cleopatra! if I venture the heresy that Story's poem gorgeous, though I grant it leaves a bad taste in one's mouth, like richly spiced wine, hot and sweet and deliciously intoxicating; but beware of to-morrow! 'Sometimes the poison of asps is not confined to fig-baskets; and with your permission, I should like to offer you an infallible antidote, Seraph of the Nile?" Mrs.
Yes, one can't help saying with the Russian philosopher 'How's one to know what one doesn't know? Enough for to-day. March 25. A white winter day. I have read over what I wrote yesterday, and was all but tearing up the whole manuscript. I think my story's too spun out and too sentimental.
The guards seized upon the unfortunate Ali to put in execution the will of the pacha; and as he was dragged away, Hussan cried out, "I told you so; but you would not believe me." "Well," replied Ali, "I've one comfort, your story's not told yet. His highness has yet to decide which is the best."
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