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"The old man being crucified with Christ, that the body of sin might be destroyed, the believer is not any more to serve sin," Rom. vi. 6; "and being now dead, they are freed from sin," ver. 7; "and are married to another, even to him who is raised from the dead, and so they should not serve sin, but bring forth fruit unto God," Rom. vii. 4; and therefore, look upon all motions of the flesh, and all the inclinations and stirrings of the old law of sin, as acts of treachery and rebellion against the right and jurisdiction of the believer's new Lord and husband; and are therefore obliged to lay hold on this old man, this body of death, and all the members of it, as traitors to the rightful king and husband, and to take them prisoners to the king, that he may give out sentence, and execute the same against them, as enemies to his kingdom and interest in the soul; they being now no more "servants of sin, but of righteousness, they ought no more to yield their members servants to uncleanness, and iniquity unto iniquity," Rom. vi. 18, 19; "and being debtors no more to the flesh, to live after the flesh," Rom. vii. 12; "they are to mortify the deeds of the body through the spirit," ver. 13; "and to crucify the flesh with the affections and lusts," Gal. v. 24; that is, by bringing them to the cross of Christ, where first they were condemned and crucified, in their full body and power; that a new sentence, as it were, may go out against them, as parts of that condemned tyrant, and as belonging to that crucified body.
"Give a rap, and when she answers the door we can tell our needs peaceably," said the minister. "I'm not caring about rapping, and I'm not caring about entering at all now," said M'I ver, turning about with some uneasiness. "I wish we had fallen on a more cheery dwelling, even if it were to be coerced with club and pistol.
Chenault, being a half-breed, was more inclined toward garrulity than his Indian spouse. "How you come?" he asked with evident interest. Jeanne answered him, speaking rapidly, and at the end of a half-hour the man was in full possession of the details of their plight. He slowly shook his head. "Moncrossen camp ver' far feefty seexty mile," he said. "You no mak'." Bill looked up suddenly.
Or that they shall be able ever to win to the bottom of their own false deceitful heart, which, as Jeremiah saith, chap. xvii. 9, "Is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it?" and which it is God's prerogative alone to search and try, ver. 10.
I wonder if he is the fellow we followed to Montmartre this morning?" "Possibly, though I am puzzled to understand why he should trust himself in that hornets' nest again. Most certainly the description covers him, but we shall probably hear more details later. I wonder where the Turkish gentleman went whom 'Le Ver' seems to have followed. He could not have gone to the Cabaret Noir in the time?"
The woman did not speak of her own acts, either within herself or to her neighbours; but her acts are, notwithstanding, proclaimed and recorded. They are minutely catalogued (ver.
"Ver' glad mek you known to me, Citizen Reetchie." The fourth gentleman was likewise French, and called Gignoux. The Citizen Gignoux made some sort of an impression on me which I did not stop to analyze.
Tall, ver' smart, and he play in theatre at Montreal. It is in the winter. P'tite Louison visit Montreal. She walk past the theatre and, as she go by, she slip on the snow and fall. Out from a door with a jomp come M'sieu' Hadrian, and pick her up. And when he see the purty face of P'tite Louison, his eyes go all fire, and he clasp her hand to his breast.
"He was robbin' me, the swine," he answered. "He'd been robbin' me for six months. But that's nobody's business but mine, and anyhow I didn't shoot him in the head. It was in the chest. An' now, who the blazes are you?" "You do' know me?" smiled the stranger; "but I know you. Oh, ver' well. I see you ver' often. You see. My name is Jacques." "Jack what?" demanded Mills. "Not Jack Jacques.
Hic Ver perpetuum, atque alienis mensibus Æstas. But the little towns we passed looked so very old and tottering, and the inhabitants, too, appeared as much oppressed with years or cares as the heavy dilapidated architecture amid which they dwelt, and out of which they crept as we passed by, that one's heart grew sad.
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