United States or Isle of Man ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
“Why, Captain,” said the devil, “I’ve come for the soul of one of your hands as per signed agreement: and, as my time’s pretty full up in these wicked days, I hope you won’t keep me waiting for him longer than need be.” “Well, Mr. Devil,” says the old man, “the man you come for is down below, sleeping, just at this moment. It’s a fair pity to call him up till it’s right time.
Already Time’s kindly hand has begun to drape the scene of the catastrophe with a decent mourning veil of grey and green, for the hardy succulent plants that can withstand the sun’s fierce rays and can thrive despite the boisterous salt sea-winds are already sprouting from every crack and cranny of the riven earth.
Here in Pisa the famous volume remained in safe keeping for some three hundred years, and then, as Time’s round brought its inevitable vengeance on the plunderers of Amalfi, it was removed by the victorious Florentines to their own city.
Let him turn which way he will let it be his pleasure to hear the popular preacher, the eloquent lawyer, or the scientific lecturer, and if his memory be only as accurate as his hearing, he will confess “time’s changes;” and when he learns who are deemed the fashionable entertainers of the day at whose boards sit lords and baronets most frequently, he will exclaim with the poet
With bells and salvoes all the hills resound, And incense mingles with the atmosphere, As still this Southern race, ill-clothed, uncrowned, Retains the memory of the Pagan year, When changed, yet all unchanged, Time’s round Makes the Jew Fisherman a god appear.”
“Gold pleasure buys; But pleasure dies, For soon the gross fruition cloys; Though raptures court, The sense is short; But virtue kindles living joys;— “Joys felt alone! Joys asked of none! Which Time’s and fortune’s arrows miss: Joys that subsist, Though fates resist, An unprecarious, endless bliss! “Unhappy they! And falsely gay!
"Cleared out—got clean away." Again Spath supplied the information. "Or so they tell us. He went back to the Stronghold after he broke through our lines. But when a patrol rode down to get him, he was gone." "Why?" Drew asked. "Why pick him up?" "Why? Because he’s in this, too!" Spath retorted. "Probably rode straight to Kitchell’s hideout. Now, Mr. Rennie, time’s up.
And he understood why any woman might believe in strange inexplicable things here in the haunting stillness of this house where splendour had turned to mould where form had become effaced and colour dimmed; where only the shadowy film of texture still remained, and where even that was slowly yielding under the attacks of Time’s relentless mercenaries, moth and dust and rust.
Word Of The Day