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He seldom condescends to give the date of any incident, and as infrequently does he choose to enlighten us as to his precise whereabouts when it occurred. Then, too, one might conclude that his investigations were almost wholly confined to two families, those of the Smiths or Petulengros, and Hernes. As Mr.
I would have brought my wife, and, indeed, the whole of our party, but there was no time for that; they were too far off, and the dead was to be buried early the next morning; so I went with the man, and he led me into Wales, where his party had lately retired, and when there, through many wild and desolate places to their encampment, and there I found the Hernes, and the dead body the last laid out on a mattress, in a tent, dressed Romaneskoenaes in a red cloak, and big bonnet of black beaver.
It is not the nature of the Hernes to be gray or wrinkled, even when they are old, and I am not old. 'How old are you, bebee? 'Sixty-five years, child an inconsiderable number. My mother was a hundred and one a considerable age when she died, yet she had not one gray hair, and not more than six wrinkles an inconsiderable number. 'She had no griefs, bebee? 'Plenty, child, but not like mine.
And yet, much as I felt this injustice and much as the city affected me, I could not put it into fiction. "It is not my material," I said. "My dominion is the West." Though at ease, I had no feeling of being at home in this tumult. I was only stopping in it in order to be near the Hernes, my brother, and Howells.
It is not the nature of the Hernes to be grey or wrinkled, even when they are old, and I am not old.’ ‘How old are you, bebee?’ ‘Sixty-five years, child—an inconsiderable number. My mother was a hundred and one—a considerable age—when she died, yet she had not one grey hair, and not more than six wrinkles—an inconsiderable number.’ ‘She had no griefs, bebee?’ ‘Plenty, child, but not like mine.’
"Yes, yes," cried the multitude; and it was whispered among them that this was Riquelmont, the author of the satires that were sung on the Pont-Neuf, and were attributed to Marsorio and Pasquin. "Now, gentlemen, listen!" And with a loud voice, Riquelmont began to read: "MANSORIO. Grand miracle. Pasquin. Le soleil dans une lanterne! PASQUIN. Allons done, to me Hernes!
I arrived at nightfall, and the burying was not to take place till the morning, which I was rather sorry for, as I am not very fond of them Hernes, who are not very fond of anybody.
I must say for the Hernes that they took the matter very coolly; some were eating, others drinking, and some were talking about their small affairs; there was one, however, who did not take the matter so coolly, but took on enough for the whole family, sitting beside the dead woman, tearing her hair, and refusing to take either meat or drink; it was the child Leonora.
I would have brought my wife, and, indeed, the whole of our party, but there was no time for that; they were too far off, and the dead was to be buried early the next morning; so I went with the man, and he led me into Wales, where his party had lately retired, and when there, through many wild and desolate places to their encampment, and there I found the Hernes, and the dead body—the last laid out on a mattress, in a tent, dressed Romaneskoenæs in a red cloak, and big bonnet of black beaver.
It is not the nature of the Hernes to be grey or wrinkled, even when they are old, and I am not old." "How old are you, bebee?" "Sixty-five years, child an inconsiderable number. My mother was a hundred and one a considerable age when she died, yet she had not one grey hair, and not more than six wrinkles an inconsiderable number." "She had no griefs, bebee?" "Plenty, child, but not like mine."
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