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Undoubtedly the dose was a drug some enervating and insidious drug. This would amply account for the lady's lethargy and languor. The crafty Fuchsia threw out several feelers to her hostess on the subject of "Heidelberg" she wondered whether anyone shared her suspicions. Certainly Mrs.
The lobelia was so called after Matthias de Lobel, a Flemish botanist and physician to King James I. The fuchsia took its name from Leonard Fuchs, a sixteenth-century botanist, the first German who really studied botany. There are many more new things and names to-day than in earlier times, names which our grand-parents and even our parents did not know when they were children.
Will you come over to Paris with me? I am going." I got up and leant against the mantel-piece, pushing a place clear for my elbow on it between a bottle of liqueur and a copy of "The Holy Grail." "You're great at springing mines upon one. Paris? why Paris? And how can you tear yourself away from Lucia?" "I wish you would not pronounce that word as if it rhymed with Fuchsia," I said.
Nevertheless, she was anything but light, in either head or purse. Fuchsia was not pretty; indeed, to be honest, was barely good-looking. Her complexion was colourless, her thick hair a dull, ashen shade, her eyes, though remarkably lively, were much too small, her chin, on the other hand, was much too long.
This tree has the property of storing water in its hollow trunk, a well-known fact, which has often proved a providential supply for thirsty travellers in a country so liable to severe drought. Here, also, we see the correa, with its stiff stem and prickly leaves, bearing a curious string of delicate, pendulous flowers, red, orange, and white, not unlike the fuchsia in form.
The four girls continued to arrange the flowers: Elizabeth, inquiring after many of the plants at Merton Hall; Anne, telling how the myrtle was prospering, how well the geraniums had flowered, describing a new fuchsia, and triumphing in the prize which the salpiglossis had gained from the Horticultural Society; Helen, comparing the flora of Merton Hall with that of Dykelands; Mrs.
Hardly in Wythburn was there any one so poor as to covet such shelter for a home. It was a single-storied house with its back to the road. Its porch was entered from five or six steps that led downwards from a little garden. It had three small rooms, with low ceilings and paved floors. In the summer the fuchsia flecked its front with white and red.
"No, I'm not coming any farther," said Beryl. "Oh, rot!" Harry Kember didn't believe her. "Come along! We'll just go as far as that fuchsia bush. Come along!" The fuchsia bush was tall. It fell over the fence in a shower. There was a little pit of darkness beneath. "No, really, I don't want to," said Beryl. For a moment Harry Kember didn't answer.
Groups of Indians, who had come across the river in the morning to sell their milk in the town, were resting in picturesque groups around their empty milk-cans, the women wrapped in their long shawls, the men in their ponchos and slouched hats; the country people were driving out their double teams of strong, powerful oxen harnessed to wooden troughs filled with manure for the fields; the washerwomen were scrubbing and beating their linen along the roadside; the gardens of the poorest houses were bright with large shrubs of wild fuchsia, and, altogether, the aspect of the little place was cheerful and pretty.
Presently, through a tangle of wild fuchsia, there was a smell of burning turf in the air and the sound of milking into a pail, and then a voice came up surprisingly as from the ground, saying: "Aisy on the thatch, Miss Cregeen, ma'am."
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