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Updated: May 21, 2025
He will take up his quarters at the Interpreter's, and come down upon you every day for a week just at meal time and as he is always blessed with a ferocious appetite, it is much better to capitulate, come to terms by giving him what he wants, and let him go.
'Here have I seen things rare and profitable, . . . Then let me be Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee. Sydney Smith, with his usual sagacity, says that the last vice of the pulpit is to be uninteresting. Now, the Interpreter's House had this prime virtue in it, that it was all interesting.
But now we will gang to the Interpreter's house, for I ken a man that will play the Interpreter right weel; for he has eyes lifted up to Heaven, the best of books in his hand, the law of truth written on his lips, and he stands as if he pleaded wi' men Oh, if I had minded what he had said to me, I had never been the cutaway creature that I am! But it is all over now.
It was true that their father had threatened dire results if they should continue the acquaintance begun at the foot of the Interpreter's zigzag stairway, but, sufficient unto the day. They would visit the great castle on the hill where their beautiful princess lady lived. And, who could tell, perhaps they might see her once more.
Say no more on that head, or thou 'lt stir up strife afresh," muttered Bradford in the interpreter's ear, while Standish fixed his eyes upon Janno ready to sacrifice him at the first hostile movement. But the young chief casting a meaning glance around the circle said quietly, "The-White-Birch was of the blood of Aspinet my brother, and The-White-Fool was her husband."
"But about my plans for this campaign in Millsburgh," he went on. "You know the great brotherhood that I represent and you are familiar with their teachings of course." He gestured comprehensively toward the Interpreter's library. The man in the wheel chair silently nodded assent. Jake Vodell continued. "I am come to Millsburgh, as I go everywhere, in the interests of our Cause.
In reading Ferishtah's Fancies we might suppose that we were in the Interpreter's House, and that the Interpreter himself was pointing a moral with the robin that has a spider in his mouth, or the hen walking in a fourfold method towards her chickens.
Bobby and Maggie Whaley stood on the outer side of the fence with their little faces thrust between the iron pickets, looking in. Still in the glow of their wonderful experience at the Interpreter's hut and the magnificent climax of that day's adventure, the children had determined to go yet farther afield.
"Davids," he was wont to say to the little yellow fiddler, after an evening's frolic at the Interpreter's, "Davids, clear away the tables and the glasses, and play fishes-hornspikes." He was a kind, affectionate creature, and his devotion to "Monsieur Johns" and "Madame Johns" knew no bounds.
The Interpreter's voice was gentle as he asked, "Your father is not worse, is he, Helen? I have heard nothing." "Oh, no," she returned, quickly. "That is " She hesitated, then continued, with careful exactness, "For a time he even seemed much better. When I went away he was really almost like his old self. But this labor situation and John's not seeing things exactly as he does worries him.
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