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Updated: May 16, 2025
When about to take flight it makes a cracking noise, as if the wings smote together, after the manner of a pigeon. Harbingers of Spring. One of the earliest intimations of approaching spring is the appearance of the Phalaena primaria, and of one or two other moths, floating with expanded wings on the surface of ponds and still water. Rev. W.T. Bree. Ravages of the Beetle. Mr.
"I like a little; all the rest Is somewhere; and our Lord knows best How the whole robe hath grace for them Who only touch the garment's hem." At the bottom, in small capitals, was the signature, BEL BREE. "I don't understand," said Bel, bewildered. "What is it? Who did it?" "It is a proof," said Mrs. Scherman. "A proof-sheet. And here is another kind of proof that came with it.
"Aggravations are as good as anything to laugh at, if you only know how," Bel Bree said. "They're always handy, at any rate," said Elise. "I thought 'aggravate' meant making worse than it is," said quiet little Mary Pinfall. "Just it, Molly!" answered Bel Bree, quick as a flash.
"Do you like muffins and stewed oysters?" asked Bel Bree, drawing upon her best experience. "Very much," Mrs. Scherman answered. And Kate, looking sharply on, delighted herself with the guarded astonishment that widened the lady's beautiful eyes. "Only we have neither muffins nor oysters in the house; and the grocery and the fish-market are down round the corner, in Selchar Street."
These women, with no man belonging to them to come and give them news, restrained by force of habit from what would have been at another time strange to do, and not knowing even yet the utter exceptionality of this time, while down among the hissing engines and before the face of the conflagration stood girls in delicate dress under evening wraps, come from gay visits with brothers and friends, and drawn irresistibly by the grand, awful magnetism of the spectacle, while up on the aristocratic avenues, along Arlington Street, whose windows flashed like jewels in the far-shining flames, where the wonderful bronze Washington sat majestic and still against that sky of stormy fire as he sits in every change and beautiful surprise of whatever sky of cloud or color may stretch about him, on Commonwealth Avenue, where splendid mansions stood with doors wide open, and drays unloading merchandise saved from the falling warehouses into their freely offered shelter, ladies were walking to and fro, as if in their own halls and parlors, watching, and questioning whomsoever came, and saying to each other hushed and solemn or excited words, when the whole city was but one great home upon which had fallen a mighty agony and wonder that drove its hearts to each other as the hearts of a household, these two, Bel Bree and little Miss Smalley, knew scarcely anything that was definite, and had been waiting and wondering all night, thinking it would be improper to talk into the street!
Let us look at three of their number as they crept through bye streets back to a house on the Bree Straat with which we are acquainted, two of them walking in front and one behind. The pair were Dirk van Goorl and his son Foy there was no mistaking their relationship.
The middle-aged music-mistress did not sing, only played. And this would be her doing, her bringing; it would be the third-floor-front's glory! The pert girls at the wareroom would not snub the old maid any more, and shove her into the meanest corner. She had got a piece of girlhood of her own again. Let them just see Bel Bree that was all!
"But you won't catch me sweeping up other folks' dust!" "I wonder what other folks' dust really is, when you've sifted it, and how you'd pick out your own," said Bel. "I'd have my own place, at any rate," responded Kate, "and the dust that got into it would go for mine, I suppose." Bel Bree tucked away. Tucked away thoughts also, as she worked.
Bel Bree had got her arm round little Sinsie, who had crept up to her side inquisitively; and Kate was making a funny face over her shoulder at Marmaduke, alternately with the pleased attentive glance she gave to his pretty young mother and her speaking. "Yes'm," Bel answered. "We want places. We are sewing-girls. We have lost our work by the fire, and we were getting tired of it before.
From one street to another, round this turn and round that, sped the quarry, and after him, a swiftly growing pack, came the hounds. Some women drew a washing-line across the street to trip him. Adrian jumped it like a deer. Four men got ahead and tried to cut him off. He dodged them. Down the Bree Straat he went, and on his mother's door he saw a paper and guessed what was written there.
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