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"How lamentable," he exclaims, "is it to neglect the path and not pursue it, to lose the mind and not know to seek it again! When men's fowls and dogs are lost, they know to seek for them again, but they lose their mind and do not know to seek for it."
Presently the driver exclaims: "HERE HE COMES!" Every neck is stretched further, and every eye strained wider. Away across the endless dead level of the prairie a black speck appears against the sky, and it is plain that it moves. Well, I should think so!
I must now get on to further anecdotes, illustrating other and less subtle causes of misunderstanding; and I feel somewhat like the author of Don Juan when he exclaims that he almost wishes he had ne'er begun that very remarkable poem. I renounce all pretense to the French virtue of discretion. Evening dress has been the source of many irritations.
The Marquis of Mantua was among the guests present, and Beatrice felt the keenest regret that the marchioness was unable to accompany him and witness the wonderful scene before the Duomo, which, she exclaims in her youthful enthusiasm," was the grandest spectacle and noblest solemnity that our eyes have ever beheld."
"How is this?" he exclaims; "I can scarcely believe my eyes the most important life and trial omitted to be found in the whole criminal record what gross, what utter negligence! Where's the life of Farmer Patch? Where's the trial of Yeoman Patch?" "What a life! what a dog's life!" I would frequently exclaim, after escaping from the presence of the publisher.
He is at last driven to the company of the disciples, when suddenly there rushes in upon them the woman who had been at the tomb, and she exclaims, "He is risen, has gone over into Galilee and wants his disciples to meet him." This was the angel's message to her. All the disciples must have hurried to the door that they might hasten to see their risen Lord all save Peter.
In his legitimate preference for teaching by the eye and hand and by real things, and in his aversion to the barren and erroneous method of teaching from books alone, Rousseau, constantly carried away by the passionate ardor of his nature, rushes into an opposite extreme, and exclaims, "I hate books; they only teach us to talk about what we do not understand."
The man who had been able to live with a humanity, a moderation, and an honesty befitting a Christian, had not risen to that appreciation of the beauty of truth which an exercise of Christianity is supposed to exact. "Sed quid agas? Sic vivitur!" "What would you have me do? It is thus we live now!" This he exclaims in a letter to Cælius, written a short time before he left the province.
"No!" she exclaims, starting back with an expression of horror upon her countenance. "Never, never! If Aguara be untrue to me, it is no fault of the paleface. I know that; and have no vengeance for her. But for him ah! if he have deceived me, it is not she, but he should suffer punishment. And punished he shall be by my brother."
'Don't let me ever see you nowheres within forty mile of London, or you'll repent it. So I shall if ever he does see me, and he'll see me if I'm above ground," concludes Jo. Allan considers a little, then remarks, turning to the woman, "He is not so ungrateful as you supposed. He had a reason for going away, though it was an insufficient one." "Thank 'ee, sir, thank 'ee!" exclaims Jo.
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