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This beautiful unprotected girl who had tenderly closed the eyes of his child! The fragile barrier built by unseen hands was cloud-high now. If the wraith of Cyclona had occupied the chair there by his side she could scarcely have been further removed from his embrace. Humbly Seth bent over the small brown hand. Reverently he kissed away the tear.
I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close-set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high. You are still bent on going?" "It has struck nine, sir." "Never mind, wait a minute: Adele is not ready to go to bed yet.
We have striven from the outset to write the whole matter cloud-high in the heavens, that the utmost South might read it. We have cast an arc upon the horizon, like the semicircle of the polar lights, and upon it have bent our motto, 'Immediate Emancipation, glorious as the rainbow.
I was hungry this morning and I ate my half loaf to the last crumb and wanted more. Then I lay down for a moment in the shade and looked up into the sky through the thin outer branches of the hawthorn. A turkey buzzard was lazily circling cloud-high above me: a frog boomed intermittently from the little marsh, and there were bees at work in the blossoms.
We have striven from the outset to write the whole matter cloud-high in the heavens, that the utmost South might read it. We have cast an arc upon the horizon, like the semicircle of the polar lights, and upon it have bent our motto, 'Immediate Emancipation, glorious as the rainbow.
Just before reaching Golspie, a lofty, sombre mountain, with its bald head enveloped in the mist, and which I had been two hours apparently in passing, cleared away and revealed its full stature and more. Towering up from its topmost summit, a tall column lifted a human figure in bronze skyward cloud-high and frequently higher still.
"Good morning," banged four-point-seven; "have you used Long Tom?" "Crack-k whiz-z-z," came the riving answer, "we have." "Whish-h patter, patter," chimed in a cloud-high shrapnel from Bulwan. It was half-past seven in the morning of November 7; the real bombardment, the terrific symphony, had begun. During the first movement the leading performer was Long Tom.
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