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Bartlett, at the Zoological Gardens, expressed himself to me in the strongest terms to the same effect. It must be a grand sight in the forests of India "to come suddenly on twenty or thirty pea-fowl, the males displaying their gorgeous trains, and strutting about in all the pomp of pride before the gratified females."
Many years afterward he confessed to some one that he was surprised and this is true. Fletcher Bartlett had surprised and tricked him, but was forgiven. Forty men are howling at the moderator, who is pounding on the table with a blacksmith's blows. Squire Asa Northcutt, with his arms fanning like a windmill from the edge of the platform, at length shouts down everybody else down to a hum.
Bartlett was denouncing, in his church, our claim that the Pagans gave us the December season of joy and merry-making, as "a distortion of history," and editorial in the Chicago Tribune said this: But the festive character of the celebration, the giving of presents, the feasting and merriment, the use of evergreen and holly and mistletoe, are all remnants of Pagan rites.
Here in this audience is a gentleman from Connecticut who has accepted my invitation to look over our village with a view to building a factory here, using the power I shall hereafter be able to furnish. I am in correspondence with two other manufacturers, whom I hope to induce to locate in Millville. Another item of news merits your attention. Bartlett has sold sixty acres of his farm to Dr.
Sky-color an' no less. What I'm wonderin' is as to however she comed here 'tall." "Piskey-led, I'll warrant 'e," said the ancient. "Nay, man-led, which is worse. You mind that printed envelope us found in the kitchen. 'Twas some dark doin' of that anointed vellun as brot her in trouble. Ay, an' if I could do en a graave hurt I would, Methodist or no Methodist." "He'm away," answered Bartlett.
They've got a pretty good idee o' my jedgment 'bout mortgages. They don't pass any without my say so." Mrs. Peaslee sniffed. "I've seen ye in the bank window, settin' round with Jim Bartlett and Si Spooner and the rest of 'em. Readin' the paper that's all I ever see ye doin'. Must be wearin' on ye." "Guess ye never heard what was said, did ye? Can't hear 'em thinkin', I guess.
The Mimbres River also can, by a small outlay, be made to irrigate a large surface and supply a moderate settlement. The various springs laid down by Gray, Emory, Parke, and Bartlett, will all afford water for small settlements, and their supply can be much increased by a judicious outlay of money. The Rio Grande valley is very rich, and in places of great width.
The Squire could not imagine how he ever got along without her; she always thought of everyone's comfort and remembered their little individual likes and dislikes, till the whole household grew to depend on her. But she never spoke of herself nor referred to her family, friends or manner of living, before coming to the Bartlett farm.
They're going to have an inquest to find out more about Mr. Carwell's death. That's all I know. I'm from police headquarters. I was told to wait around here, as you were expected, and to serve that on you. Don't forget to be there. It's a court order," and the man slunk away. "An inquest," murmured Bartlett, as he looked at the paper in his hand.
There was something childish in those eyes, though it was not the childishness of senility. What exactly it was Miss Bartlett did not stop to consider, for her glance passed on to his clothes. These did not attract her. He was probably trying to become acquainted with them before they got into the swim. So she assumed a dazed expression when he spoke to her, and then said: "A view? Oh, a view!
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