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Also, a vision of a four-story brick house, nicely furnished, I actually saw many specific articles, curtains, sofas, tables, and others, and could draw the patterns of them at this moment, a brick house, I say, looking out on the water, with a fair parlor, and books and busts and pots of flowers and bird-cages, all complete; and at the window, looking on the water, two of us.
He had met a few of his companions at the Young Men's Christian Association that evening. The Association was a very handsome, four-story brick that stood some distance back from the street. Of all the places in the community for young fellows to "hang out" the Association was the most popular.
"Are you going out, Paul?" asked Mrs. Hoffman, noticing that he took his hat. "Yes, I must go and see George Barry, and carry the money I have received for sales." "Where does he live?" "In Bleecker street. I shan't be gone long." Paul reached the number which had been given him. It was a large, four-story house, with the appearance of a barracks. "Mr.
A single long line of them appeared to welcome the big vehicle. It went on into the town. It reached the business district. There were side streets, utterly empty, and then the main street divided. The truck bore to the right. There were three and four-story buildings. Every window was blank and empty, reflecting only the white street lamps. No living thing anywhere.
When his gaze strayed from the glowing horologue of time it rested intently upon a four-story red brick house in the row of dwellings opposite to where he sat. The shades were drawn, and the lights in many rooms shone dimly through them. "Ten minutes to nine!" exclaimed the young man, with an impatient gesture of despair.
Near the center of the island one catches glimpses, through the trees, of ten vast stone four-story buildings, each of which covers an acre of ground. These are the Government workshops; for the Rock Island establishment is a national armory and arsenal.
Examinations in the other required subjects followed in rapid succession and it was Friday before they had settled themselves in Wayne Hall, the house in which they were to live as students of Overton College. Wayne Hall was a substantial four-story brick house, just a block from the campus.
"Don't worry about that, Miss Florence. I'm old enough to take care of myself, and I've got tired of livin' with Tim." "But he may beat you!" "He'll have to get hold of me first." They had reached a four-story tenement of shabby brick, which was evidently well filled up by a miscellaneous crowd of tenants; shop girls, mechanics, laborers and widows, living by their daily toil.
"Can't ye tell me something that's good for the sunburn?" asked Sandy, anxiously. "It's a dressed-up shooting-cracker I'll be resembling the morrow, in spite of me fine clothes." "Buttermilk and lemon-juice," recommended Mrs. Hollis, as she placed the last marshmallow on the roof of a four-story cake.
But we are bent upon important business, and yield not to the more leisurely inclined side of our nature. A large four-story building is our destination. Its door posts, windows and available space are decorated with the inevitable shingle that sooner or later ushers the professional into the notice of his victims. And this building was not alone in such style of decoration.
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