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But soon after." "That is well. We fear not death. Shall we not surely die? What matters it? Our covenant stands." Ratna Ram begged the priest to rest a little under the kadamba tree. Rising up, he gathered his utensils of writing and put them in a cotton-bag; and with a glance at Skag to follow, left the place walking toward the city.
One or two of these heights were two hundred feet perpendicular, or nearly so: from the summit there is laid down in a slanting direction a slide or trough of timber, wide enough to admit of the passage of a cotton bale; at the bottom of the bluff this slide rests upon a platform of loose planks, alongside of which the boat is moored; the cotton-bag is guided into the slide at top, and thence, being launched, is left to find its own way to the bottom; if it keeps the slide until it strikes the platform, communicating with the vessel by a plane inclined according to circumstances, it is carried on board by its own impetus and the spring of the planks; but it often chances that through meeting a slight inequality on the slide, or from some unknown cause, the bale bounces off in its passage, either sticking amongst the trees by the way, or rolling headlong into the river.
Yes, it is the Southern planter who says to-day to haughty England, Go to war, if you dare; dismiss Dallas, if you dare. Yes, he who sits on the throne of the cotton-bag has triumphed at last over him who sits on the throne of the wool-sack. England is prostrate at his feet, as well as the abolitionists.
Tyranny is his law, a cotton-bag his judgment-seat. But we pride ourselves that we are a respectable people what more would you have us? The night is chilly without, in the fireplace of the antiquary's back parlor there burns a scanty wood fire. Tom has eaten his supper and retired to a little closet-like room overhead, where, in bed, he muses over what fell from Maria's lips, in their interview.
It is a soft stone, and would prove, it is feared, something like the cotton-bag defence of New Orleans memory, as the balls thrown from without would sink in, and not splinter the stone, which for the murderous work were to be wished.
Tyranny is his law, a cotton-bag his judgment-seat. But we pride ourselves that we are a respectable people-what more would you have us? The night is chilly without, in the fire-place of the antiquary's back parlor there burns a scanty wood fire. Tor has eaten his supper and retired to a little closet-like room overhead, where, in bed, he muses over what fell from Maria's lips, in their interview.
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