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The eyeholes were now lustreless but the rudely carved gap that just before had been a mouth still seemed to twist itself into a despairing grin, and was so far human. "Poor fellow!" quoth Mother Rigby, with a rueful glance at the relics of her ill-fated contrivance. "My poor, dear, pretty Feathertop!
The pair were now promenading the room: Feathertop with his dainty stride and no less dainty grimace, the girl with a native maidenly grace, just touched, not spoiled, by a slightly affected manner, which seemed caught from the perfect artifice of her companion.
Rating in Second Galaxy mathematics?" He nodded, hauled out a sheet of thin, wax-coated fabric and his claws made rapid imprints in the surface. He passed it to Bart, pointed. Bart hesitated, and Vorongil said impatiently, "Standard agreement, no hidden clauses. Put your mark on it, feathertop." Bart realized it was something like a fingerprint they wanted. You'll pass anything but X-rays.
Feathertop, likewise, had looked toward the mirror, and there beheld, not the glittering mockery of his outside show, but a picture of the sordid patchwork of his real composition stripped of all witchcraft. The wretched simulacrum! We almost pity him.
I'm sorry for you, my dear; but it's all the result of your inexperience. You ought to have eaten pebble-stones with your meal when you were sitting. Don't you see, Dame Kertarkut, what bills they have? That'll increase, and they'll be frightful!" "What shall I do?" said Mrs. Feathertop, now greatly alarmed.
Her nose shall be as red as the coal in thy pipe! Her front teeth shall drop out! In a week hence she shall not be worth thy having." "Let her alone, mother," answered poor Feathertop. "The girl was half won, and methinks a kiss from her sweet lips might have made me altogether human. But," he added after a brief pause and then a howl of self-contempt, "I've seen myself, mother!
The House of Seven Gables, Nathaniel Hawthorne. The Marble Faun, Nathaniel Hawthorne. The Gray Champion, Nathaniel Hawthorne. The Wedding Knell, Nathaniel Hawthorne. The Great Carbuncle, Nathaniel Hawthorne. Dr. Heidegger's Experiment, Nathaniel Hawthorne. The Haunted Mind, Nathaniel Hawthorne. Feathertop, Nathaniel Hawthorne. Rip Van Winkle, Washington Irving.
"This gentleman," continued he, presenting the stranger, "is the chevalier Feathertop nay, I beg his pardon, My Lord Feathertop who hath brought me a token of remembrance from an ancient friend of mine. Pay your duty to His Lordship, child, and honor him as his quality deserves." After these few words of introduction the worshipful magistrate immediately quitted the room.
Another wise provision was to love and pity mankind more than he scorned them, so that he never created a character which did not possess a soul the only puppet he ever contrived of straw, "Feathertop," having an excellent soul until the end of the story.
"Did yonder sniffling hypocrite thrust my darling from his door? The villain! I'll set twenty fiends to torture him till he offer thee his daughter on his bended knees!" "No, mother," said Feathertop, despondingly; "it was not that." "Did the girl scorn my precious one?" asked Mother Rigby, her fierce eyes glowing like two coals of Tophet. "I'll cover her face with pimples!
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