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Updated: May 25, 2025
I went and found them both sad he for the loss of his new mistress, and she because she had no longer a friend to make the seclusion of the convent pleasant. About midnight M. de Bemis left us, saying in a melancholy manner that he feared he should be obliged to pass several months in Vienna on important diplomatic business. Before parting we agreed to sup together every Friday.
George Bemis was dismally formidable. George Bemis was our fellow-traveler. We had never seen him before. He wore in his belt an old original "Allen" revolver, such as irreverent people called a "pepper-box." Simply drawing the trigger back, cocked and fired the pistol.
He sat up in bed, big-eyed with excitement, while his mother told him that the drunken visitor was Lige Bemis, who had come to revisit a cave, a horse thief's cave, he had said, back of the big rock that seemed to have slipped down from the ledge behind the house, right by the spring.
Bemis opened his eyes in astonishment, and Barclay grunted in disgust as he went on: "Of course we can't get you appointed from this state that's clear but they think we can work it through in the City as soon as there is a vacancy or make a new district. How would you like that? Judge Bemis say, that sounds all right, doesn't it?" Barclay rose and stretched his legs and arms.
The man sat there without a muscle of his parchment face moving. His eyes were squinted up, looking at the tip of his long cigar. "Why?" asked Barclay. "Well," responded Bemis, impassive as an ox, "it would help me in my business to know. Tell me." He spoke the last two words as one in authority.
They were taught that, when any man started after God in that way, if he had been guilty of any crime he would fall by the way. Endesthora walked at the head and suddenly he missed Argune. He said, "He was not always merciful in the hour of victory." A little while after he missed Bemis, and said, "He fought not so much for the rights of man as for his own glory."
Young Joe Bemis, of The Star, was the first to leave, whirling madly and precariously down the street on his wheel, which was dizzily tall in those days. Mrs. Zelotes, hailing him from her open window, might as well have hailed the wind.
In this connection, and before introducing the other clipping from the Banner, it would be entirely proper to introduce the manuscript for the above, in the typewriting of the stenographer of Judge Bemis's court, and a check for fifty dollars payable to Adrian Brownwell, signed by Judge Bemis aforesaid; but those documents would only clog the narrative and would not materially strengthen the case, so they will be thrown out.
The baby, is it? poor little soul! has he lost all that blood? did he cut himself?" Eunice explained, and Cricket told Eliza to unfasten the bandage to ask Mrs. Bemis if it was all right. At the sight of four pink stamps, the doctor's wife exclaimed in astonishment: "What have you put on for a plaster? It looks beautifully done." "Them's postage stamps," volunteered Eliza, quickly.
My husband seems much better. He went up on the hill. Papa and the children played whist in the evening, while I read Charles Reade. Celia cleared the old attic to-day. I found my dear hanging astral, that lighted my husband in his study at the Old Manse, and also Una's baby socks. Judge Hoar came to invite my husband to tea with Mr. Eustis and Mr. Bemis and Mr. Emerson. He would not go.
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