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It may be that these things hastened the breaking-down of Sir Harry Atkinson's health in 1890. At any rate fail it did, unhappily. His colleague, Sir Frederick Whitaker, was ageing palpably. Nor did Sir John Hall's health allow him to take office. By permission of Messrs. With their tres Magi thus disabled, the Conservative party began to lose ground.

With this oracular sentence I bowed, and in company with M. Pelet quitted the school-room. "C'est bien! c'est tres bien!" said my principal as we entered his parlour. "Je vois que monsieur a de l'adresse; cela, me plait, car, dans l'instruction, l'adresse fait tout autant que le savoir."

They said, "Go on," nodded their heads, and betook themselves to their horses. "Had we not better wait for the inquest and swear out a warrant?" said the Secretary, cautiously. "How many men have we?" "Five!" "Then," said the President, summing up the Revised Statutes of the State of California in one strong sentence; "then we don't want no d d warrant." It was high noon at Tres Pinos.

Madame promptly opened a door, and displayed a little girl in bed a very flushed and feverish little girl. Cockerell grinned sympathetically at the patient, to that young lady's obvious gratification; and turned to the mother. "Je suis tres triste," he said; "j'ai grand miséricorde. Je ne placerai pas de soldats ici. Bon jour!" By this time he was in the street again.

Hippolyte had engaged them beforehand, and seemed rather apologetic about them, and finally, when there did not appear half enough to go round, he shrugged his shoulders almost up to his ears and said, "Que voulez vous!" and that "Ces Messieurs" would have to be "très bourgeois en voyage," and that there was nothing for it but that Mme. la Comtesse de Tournelle should "partager l'appartement de Monsieur le Comte de Tournelle," and that Monsieur le Comte de Croixmare would have to extend like hospitality to Mme. la Comtesse de Croixmare.

Some of the Bretons writing home nickname bread "Monsieur Barras," and when there was a very great shortage they would write to their families: "Ce pauvre Monsieur Barras ne se porte pas tres bien a present."

"It does not interest me, ma tante." "But I tell you that it is interesting, and you must come home. Now you may go. What else do you want of me? Videz votre sac." "The next is in the fortress." "In the fortress? I can give you a note for that to the Baron Kriegsmuth. Cest un tres brave homme. Oh, but you know him; he was a comrade of your father's. Il donne dans le spiritisme.

Whatever may be my present reputation, it no longer rests on the merit of this first essay; and at the end of twenty-eight years I may appreciate my juvenile work with the impartiality, and almost with the indifference, of a stranger. In his answer to Lady Hervey, the Count de Caylus admires, or affects to admire, "les livres sans nombre que Mr. Gibbon a lus et tres bien lus."

We noticed, as we passed on toward the château, the old tower of the archives, which doubtless contains human documents as interesting as those published by Count Othenin d'Haussonville about his pretty great-grandmother when she was jeune fille très coquette, with numerous lovers at her feet.

I take it from the back of one of those little French toys which contain pasteboard figures moved by a small running stream of fine sand; Benjamin Franklin will translate it for you: "Quoiqu'elle soit tres solidement montee, il faut ne pas BRUTALISER la machine." I will thank you for the pie, if you please.