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Wait till Mees Varing's rich American friends come along and buy some of the great Vogel's pictures. You will see." "But has the Mees any rich friends?" asked her crony the Frau Doctorin. And then the parson's widow laughed in a worldly way. "So pretty a girl," she said, "so fine a complexion, such little feet! And those winning ways!"
And in the general dissolution of his thoughts was no method, no order: he had plunged into the reading of books taken haphazard from his grandfather's heterogeneous library or from Vogel's collection of books: books of theology, science, philosophy, an odd lot, of which he understood nothing, having everything to learn: he could not finish any of them, and in the middle of them went off on divagations, endless whimsies, which left him weary, empty, and in mortal sorrow.
She was taken away last Monday week." They began to weep again. Frau Vogel's voice called Rosa once more. Christophe, left alone again, lived through those days of death. A week, already a week ago.... O God! What had become of her? How it had rained that week!... And all that time he was laughing, he was happy!
Now, if Vogel's right, this cribbing ought to have been here fourteen days ago fourteen days tomorrow." Peterson nodded. "That's just two weeks of lost time. How've you been planning to make that up?" "Why why I reckon I can put things together soon's I get the cribbing." "Look here, Pete. The office has contracted to get this house done by a certain date.
We passed the well-remembered tavern, Boone's grocery and old Vogel's dram shop, and encamped on a meadow beyond. Here we were soon visited by a number of people who came to purchase our horses and equipage. This matter disposed of, we hired a wagon and drove on to Kansas Landing.
"I am to blame," she added, laying her hand on Fraulein Vogel's shoulder. "I wronged him by my suspicion, my petty jealousy; then I ran away from him, and expected him to roam over Europe trying to find me. I hid myself from him, and I am eating my heart out because he does not come." "Suppose," said Fräulein Vogel, "that he is seeking for you now?" Kitty's wet eyes shone for a moment.
The English company, also having intelligence of a mine said to be discovered near Fort Marlborough, gave orders for its being worked; but if it ever existed no trace now remains. Ost-Indische Reise-beschreibung oder Diarium. Leipzig 1690 octavo. See also J.W. Vogel's Ost-Indianische Reise-beschreibung. The following is an extract of a letter from Mr.
Why, wanst, whin Clancy was standin' up f'r Grogan's eighth, his son come runnin' in to tell him they was a fire in Vogel's packin' house. He dhropped th' kid at Father Kelly's feet, an' whipped off his long coat an' wint tearin' f'r th' dure, kickin' over th' poorbox an' buttin' ol' Mis' O'Neill that'd come in to say th' stations. 'Twas lucky 'twas wan iv th' Grogans.
That she, a gaunt, grim, brusque woman of fifty, could suddenly feel all the stifled mother-love within her spring up, that was preposterous, the vain imagining of a romancer. They worked together, these two, in Hedwig Vogel's studio, and Kitty strove to make up for her lack of talent by her abundance of patience. "Why did you decide to be a painter?" Fräulein Vogel asked her one day.
There is no reason for doubting Vogel's story when we bear in mind the enormous fertility of Schubert. He was unquestionably the most spontaneous musical genius that ever lived.
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