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Updated: May 9, 2025
"Yes, I have been and turned it out," replied Fry with a brutal laugh, "and it won't be turned on again for fourteen days, so the governor says, however, and I suppose he knows," and Fry went out chuckling. Josephs burst out sobbing and almost screaming at this last stroke; it seemed to hurt him more than his fiercer tortures. He sobbed so wildly and so loud that Mr.
I have given this story accurately as it was told to me by Tomah Josephs, a Passamaquoddy Indian. How one of the Partridge's Wives became a Sheldrake Duck, and why her Feet and Feathers are Red. N'karnayoo, of the old time, there was a hunter who lived in the woods. One day this hunter, returning, saw a very beautiful girl sitting on a rock by a river, making a moccasin.
Now when he saw lips turning blue and eyes rolling in sad despair, and skin twitching convulsively, it occurred to him "this creature must be suffering very badly," and the next step was "let me see what is hurting him so." Evans now stood over Josephs and examined him. "Mr. Fry," said he doggedly, "is not this overdoing it?" "What d'ye mean, we are to obey orders, I suppose?"
He started reading Mordecai Josephs, forgetting to close the drawer. Passage after passage suffused his eyes with tears; a soft magic hovered about the nervous sentences; he read her eager little soul in every line. Now he understood. How blind he had been! How could he have missed seeing? Esther stared at him from every page.
"But when I did it was on this very shore a little further along below the Miller place. There was a Martin and a Josephs in the partnership then too the fathers, I dare say, of Billy and Ned. What is your name, my boy?" "Paul Jameson, sir." The name was a shock to Turner. This boy a Jameson Neil Jameson's son? Why, yes, he had Neil's mouth.
"They are the only writers who have ever understood it," affirmed Miss Cissy Levine, emphatically. A little scornful smile played for a second about the mouth of the dark little girl. "Stop a moment," said Sidney. "I've been so busy doing justice to this delicious asparagus, that I have allowed Raphael to imagine nobody here has read Mordecai Josephs.
To this point the narrative follows the Micmac, Passamaquoddy, and Chippewa versions. After the tale of the chief is at an end it is entirely Passamaquoddy; but of the latter I have two versions, one from Tomah Josephs and one from Mrs. W. Wallace Brown. In the latter it is represented as giving size to those who partake of it. The Mischief Maker.
Its seed is in itself; while it decays it germinates; as it withers, it grows. The elders fall off, but their place is filled and more than filled. The world is and must be while things remain as they are now, for ever young. But of what kind is its youth? That is the awful and tremendous question. Shall the Absaloms abound? or the Josephs and the Josiahs? The elders have much to say to this.
Jansenius started several times in quest of Henrietta, and, when he had gone a few steps, returned and begged that no more time should be wasted. Josephs, whose faith was simple, retired to pray, and did good, as far as it went, by withdrawing one voice from the din of plans, objections, and suggestions which the rest were making; each person trying to be heard above the others.
Anthonys and Penelopes, Josephs and Rebecca Merlindy Johnsings. I'll apply the soft pedal to the fierce scream of passion and pull all the barbs from the arrows that whiz from the Love God's bow. Life will not then be quite so exhilarating, but it will be much better worth the living.
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