Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 27, 2025
"Miss Grant?" I cried, all in a disorder. "Yes, I asked her to kiss me good-bye, the which she did." "Ah, well!" said she, "you have kissed me too, at all events." At the strangeness and sweetness of that word, I saw where we had fallen; rose, and set her on her feet. "This will never do," said I. "This will never, never do. O Catrine, Catrine!"
Catrine Montour closed her horrible little eyes, threw back her head, and, marking time with her flat foot, began to chant. She chanted the glory of the Long House; of the nations that drove the Eries, the Hurons, the Algonquins; of the nation that purged the earth of the Stonish Giants; of the nation that fought the dreadful battle of the Flying Heads.
In due course of time the firm erected a factory of their own, fitted with the most improved machinery for turning out millwork; and they went on from one contract to another, until their reputation as engineers became widely celebrated. In 1826-7, they supplied the water-wheels for the extensive cotton-mills belonging to Kirkman Finlay and Company, at Catrine Bank in Ayrshire.
Maybe I was COUNTRYFEED; at least, I was not so much so as she thought; and it was even to my homespun wits, that she was bent to hammer up a match between her cousin and a beardless boy that was something of a laird in Lothian. "Saxpence had better take his broth with us, Catrine," says she. "Run and tell the lasses."
She looked up at me thoughtfully; there was not in her face the slightest trace of the deep emotions which had shocked me. "A tribal fire is lighted somewhere," she mused. "Chiefs like Brant do not travel alone unless unless he came to consult that witch Catrine Montour, or to guide her to some national council-fire in the North."
She laughed wickedly. "I don't mean their ladies, cousin." "How could you?" I protested, grimly. "Their wagons," she said, "started to-day at sundown from Tribes Hill; Sir John, the Butlers, and the Glencoe gentlemen follow at dawn. There are post-chaises for the ladies out yonder, and an escort, too. But nobody would stop them; they're as safe as Catrine Montour."
Maybe I was countryfeed; at least, I was not so much so as she thought; and it was plain enough, even to my homespun wits, that she was bent to hammer up a match between her cousin and a beardless boy that was something of a laird in Lothian. "Saxpence had better take his broth with us, Catrine," says she. "Run and tell the lasses."
We passed through Catrine, known hereabouts as "the clean village of Scotland." Certainly, as regards the point indicated, it has greatly the advantage of Mauchline, whither we now returned without seeing anything else worth writing about.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking