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Updated: May 11, 2025
We are not, of course, concerned with human conspiracies unless they endanger Lhari lives. The Antares authorities will deal with the man Montano for an unauthorized landing on Lharillis, in violation of Federation treaty." He smiled, his gnome's face breaking into a million tiny cracks like a piece of gray-glazed pottery. "Bartol, or whatever you call yourself, you are a brave young man.
"Catch hold of his feet, Bartol. Here ease him out of his chair. No sense bothering the medics this time. Think you can manage to help me carry him down to the deck?" "Sure," Bart said, finding his feet and his voice. He felt better as they moved along the hallway, the limp, muttering form of the old Lhari insensible in their arms.
Doctor Bartol has said that when King lectured in a new town his homely, boyish face always caused a small spasm of disappointment or merriment to sweep over the audience. But when he spoke he was a transformed being, and his deep, mellow voice would hush the most inveterate whisperers. For eleven years Starr King remained pastor of the Hollis Street Church.
Among other members of the clerical profession who have had a marked influence on the mind of the age by their scholarship or eloquence are Drs. Hickok, C.S. Henry, Tappan, H.B. Smith, Hitchcock, W.R. Williams, Alexander, Bethune, Hawks, Sprague, Bushnell, Thompson, Tyng, Bartol, Dewey, Norton, Frothingham, Osgood, Chapin, Bellows, Furness, Livermore, Ware, Peabody, and Henry Ward Beecher.
The tight bandage made it feel a little better, but he felt sick and dizzy, and when the medic turned and saw him, the officer said brusquely "Watch off for you, Bartol. I'll fix the sign-out sheet, but you go to your cabin and get yourself at least four hours of sleep. That's an order." Bart stumbled out of the cabin with relief.
"Bartol that's a Lhari name. What's your real one?" "Bart. Bart Steele." "Good luck, Bart." There were tears in her gray eyes. With the blue cloak folded around his face, hands tucked in the slits at the side, he felt almost like himself.
"Bartol," she said aloud. "Is that how you pronounce it?" She made small scribbles in a sort of shorthand with the red pencil, then made other marks with the black one in Lhari; he supposed the red marks were her own private memoranda, unreadable by the Lhari. "Next, please." She handed a cup of the greenish stuff to Ringg, behind him.
"Shall we take a chance? Ringg son of Rahan greets you." "Bartol son of Berihun." "I don't remember seeing you in the port, Bartol." "I've mostly worked on the Polaris run." "Way off there?" Ringg son of Rahan sounded startled and impressed. "You really get around, don't you? Shall we sit here?" They sat on triangular chairs at a three-cornered table.
IX. Bartol. Facii Epist. p. 79, Flor. He worked on, then, as best he could, with courage and confidence; every now and then doing things that never would have been done by Tacitus: the story, for example, of Sabina Poppaea in the 14th book; Tacitus would have surely passed it over as, though having some relation to the public, coming within the province of biography.
Alcott, then in his young manhood, had qualities which, for a young lady of refinement and culture, would compensate for many privations is evident. Whether he was one of the great men of his generation or not, there is no doubt he seemed so. When, in 1837, Dr. Bartol came to Boston, Mr. Emerson asked him whom he knew in the city, and said: "There is but one man, Mr. Alcott." Dr.
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