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"Good-morrow, gentlemen," said I, "we have had rare sport." They looked at me blankly enough, I promise you, and one of them asked me what the devil I did there, and how I dared to join in a private sport. "Nay, I was not chasing your hare, gentlemen," said I. "What then, fellow?" asked one of them. "Why, marry, I was chasing you," I answered, "and a better run I have not had for years."
I was scarcely dressed next morning, when the other thirty-nine ladies came into my chamber, all in different dresses from those they had worn the day before: they bade me good-morrow, and inquired after my health.
"Good-morrow to you, young gentleman; I hope you have slept yourself into a pleasanter humour than you went to bed with," she said, as she held out her hand, and made him a formal curtsey. Norman did not like her salutation, but the awe he felt for her, prevented him from making a rude answer which rose to his lips.
Oh, beautiful is the love of youth to youth, and touching the tenderness of womanhood to woman; and fair in the eyes of the happy sun is the waking of holy sleep, and the virgin kiss upon virgin lips smiling and murmuring the sweet "Good-morrow!"
The fifty new churches will very much mend the prospect; but church-work is slow, church-work is slow! I do not remember I have any where mentioned in Sir Roger's character, his custom of saluting every body that passes by him with a good-morrow or a good-night.
"Our end of the work here is all right, Smith, my boy, but I am a bit nervous about the Gotown lay-out. Not that I doubt Mr. McGowan's intentions, but I am afraid he has bitten off more than he can chew. However, there's no need in bidding the devil good-morrow till you're up foreninst him, is there?" Then slapping Smith heartily on the back he cried: "And we are all right for next week, too.
She stood at the foot of the ladder, and, without further solicitation, intoned, in her clear and sympathetic voice, a popular song, with a rhythmical refrain: My father bid me Go sell my wheat. To the market we drove "Good-morrow, my sweet! How much, can you say, Will its value prove?" The embroidered rose Lies on my glove. "A hundred francs Will its value prove."
"Good-morrow, dame," he exclaimed, pulling up as he reached her. "I see that you have a fine supply of fish, and you will find custom, I doubt not, at the Hall this morning. There are three or four tables to be served, for we have more visitors than Sir Reginald has received for many a day." As he spoke he looked into the dame's basket, turning the fish with the handle of his whip.
She stood at the foot of the ladder, and, without further solicitation, intoned, in her clear and sympathetic voice, a popular song, with a rhythmical refrain: My father bid me Go sell my wheat. To the market we drove "Good-morrow, my sweet! How much, can you say, Will its value prove?" The embroidered rose Lies on my glove. "A hundred francs Will its value prove."
She stood at the foot of the ladder, and, without further solicitation, intoned, in her clear and sympathetic voice, a popular song, with a rhythmical refrain: My father bid me Go sell my wheat. To the market we drove "Good-morrow, my sweet! How much, can you say, Will its value prove?" The embroidered rose Lies on my glove. "A hundred francs Will its value prove."
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