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Updated: May 3, 2025
I want it to shape our little snow-sister's bosom with. You know that part must be quite pure, just as it came out of the sky!" "Here it is, Violet!" answered Peony, in his bluff tone but a very sweet tone, too as he came floundering through the half-trodden drifts. "Here is the snow for her little bosom. O Violet, how beau-ti-ful she begins to look!"
You mowed her hair off so that she'll have to wear a wig for the next two years and handed it to her in a beau-ti-ful sealed package! They talk of suing me and killing you out of hand." "She was bleeding a great deal and looked faint," said the junior partner; "I thought I ought to stop that." "And you did by thunder!
"I'm thinking about my party. It's going to be a a corker, Sarah! You'll see!" Sarah groaned, both in spirit and outwardly. "Honey," she pleaded, leaning on the back of a chair and studying her charge anxiously; "Honey, dat Miss Susy's a stranger in dis yere part why, she's come clare from Phil'delphy. I'm told the chillerns down in Phil'delphy has beau-ti-ful manners."
"Yes; it is beau-ti-ful," answered Peony, pronouncing the three syllables with deliberate accuracy. "O Violet, only look at her hair! It is all like gold!" "Oh certainly," said Violet, with tranquillity, as if it were very much a matter of course. "That color, you know, comes from the golden clouds, that we see up there in the sky. She is almost finished now.
'Don't look at mine, if you ain't a judge, because these lions' heads was made for men of taste; not snobs. 'Beau-ti-ful! cried the barber again. 'A grass-green frock-coat, too, bound with gold; and a cockade in your hat! 'I should hope so, replied the youth.
And let her eyes half close. "You market your meat yet on Fridays down by old Lavinsky's, Mrs. Fischlowitz?" "Ja, just like always, only his liver ain't so good like it used to be. I can tell you that's a beau-ti-ful smell."
Beautiful, really. 'With Miss Sally, Quilp went on, 'and the beautiful fictions of the law, his days will pass like minutes. Those charming creations of the poet, John Doe and Richard Roe, when they first dawn upon him, will open a new world for the enlargement of his mind and the improvement of his heart. 'Oh, beautiful, beautiful! Beau-ti-ful indeed! cried Brass. 'It's a treat to hear him!
The church is beau-ti-ful beau-ti-ful! A sonnet in stone! A sculptured prayer! Ye-es! It is so! Permit me to press your hand!" John smiled involuntarily. There was a quaint affectation about the speaker that was quite irresistibly entertaining. "Mr. Julian Adderley is a poet," said Sir Morton, whispering this in a jocose stage aside; "Everything is 'beautiful' to him!" Mr.
"I saw which of 'em took it; and when we were all down on the floor together, knocking about, I just gave him a little touch on the back of his hand, as I knew his pal would; and he thought it WAS his pal; and gave it me!" It was beautiful, beau-ti-ful! 'Even that was hardly the best of the case, for that chap was tried at the Quarter Sessions at Guildford. You know what Quarter Sessions are, sir.
"No, I sha'n't name him nothin' out'n the Bible," said Diddie, "because that's wicked, and maybe God wouldn't let him live, just for that; I b'lieve I'll name him Christopher Columbus, 'cause if he hadn't discovered America there wouldn't er been no people hyear, an' I wouldn't er had no father nor mother, nor dog, nor nothin'; an', Dumps, sposin' you name yours Pocahontas, that was er beau-ti-ful Injun girl, an' she throwed her arms 'roun' Mr.
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