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Perhaps the tendency conduced to his popularity and reputation as a music-master, for his acquaintance with the works of composers was really vast; but the effect of it was not so hopeful when it set him to studying a difficult art almost without instruction, in the confidence that he should soon by his works take rank with Angelo, Wren and other great masters. At the music-dealer's window Mr.
Behind her stood a pretty girl whose features were neatly cut out on somewhat the same design, and whose eyes and hair were of the same neutral brown. She had a waist of painful slenderness, and she reminded Mary of a charming wren.
Amongst them we find the names of Drake and Nelson, celebrated in naval heroism; of Wollaston, Young, Playfair, and Bell, in science; of Wren, Reynolds, Wilson, and Wilkie, in art; of Thurlow and Campbell, in law; and of Addison, Thomson, Goldsmith, Coleridge, and Tennyson, in literature.
Wren stalked solemnly beside him as commander of the post. Even the women followed, tripping daintily through the sand. Graham watched them from the porch of the post hospital. He could not long leave Mullins, tossing in fever and delirium.
Peter hesitated. As a matter of fact, he couldn't think of any big cousin of Jenny Wren. All the cousins he knew anything about were very nearly Jenny's own size. Now Jenny Wren is one of the most impatient small persons in the world. "Well, well, well, Peter, have you lost your tongue?" she chattered. "Can't you answer a simple question without talking all day about it?
His loyalty caused him to be deprived of his preferments during the Civil Wars, and at the Restoration he was designed for Bishop of Worcester, but died before consecration, April 25th, 1660. Thomas Pierce, for some years President of Magdalen College, Oxford. Matthew Wren, successively Bishop of Hereford, Norwich, and Ely, died April 14, 1667, aged eighty-one years and upwards.
And he was afraid that other merrymakers in the farmyard might make matters far from merry for him. For Freddie Firefly feared all birds. At night he used his trusty light to frighten Mr. Nighthawk or Willie Whip-poor-will. But he didn't intend to run any risk in the daytime, with Jolly Robin or Rusty Wren.
A tiny brown wren sang canticles of rapture in the thicket. A great light came into the priest's face a sun-ray from the east, far beyond the treetops. "Blessed Jeanne d'Arc, I drink from thy fountain in thy name. I vow my life to thy cause. Aid me, aid this my son, to fight valiantly for freedom and for France. In the name of God, Amen." The soldier looked up at him.
"Well, my dears," said old Mother Squirrel, "you must do it very carefully; never forget that you haven't wings like Jenny Wren and Cock Robin."
Instead of that voluble and gushing song outside the window, I heard the wrens scolding and crying at a fearful rate, and on going out saw the bluebirds in possession of the box. The poor wrens were in despair; they wrung their hands and tore their hair, after the wren fashion, but chiefly did they rattle out their disgust and wrath at the intruders.
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