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The faith which has been spent upon religion through all these ages, seems to us very much like the tragedy of an unharnessed Niagara." The Duchess looked around her triumphantly. She was chilled a little, however, by Rochester's curling lip. "Dear hostess," he whispered in her ear, "this sort of conversation is scarcely respectful to the bishop, even though he be a relative.

At length a convulsive movement crossed the brow of the Constable, and Guarine, when he beheld a sardonic smile begin to curl Vidal's lip, could keep silence no longer. "Vidal," he said, "thou art a "

I confess she is not a very lovable person, and I think she has led a very unwholesome life lately and is sadly spoiled by it; still that is no excuse for Polly's conduct. 'No, of course it isn't, sighed Elsie, with a little quiver of the lip.

I saw not a quiver on thy lip, a pallor on thy cheek, nay, nor faltering in thy step, when they read a doom at which I have marked the bravest blench; oh, let not, that noble spirit fail thee now!" "Gloucester, it shall not!" he said, with suddenly regained firmness, as supporting Agnes with his right arm he convulsively wrung the hand of his friend with the other.

So when Master Rabbit, smoothing down his white fur, said it was the only kind of a coat worn by the aristocracy, Marten humbly inquired, "if that were so, how he came by it." "It shows," replied Master Rabbit, "that I have habitually kept company with gentlemen." "How did you get that slit in your lip?" inquired Marten, who knew very well what this Indian really was.

Her cheeks were burning under the sting of his coarse lashes. "Try! You bet you'll try! Better get home right away. Give me that bundle I'll have it checked up, so you won't lose no time." She bit her lip, her whole nature in revolt, but she made no reply. Too much was at stake for her to show anger at such coarseness. She had no rights that he was bound to respect.

An audible "Thank God!" burst from every lip around; and Caroline herself, at the sudden change, from the apprehension of death to the hope of life, burst into silent tears. "What are all these men doing here?" demanded the good surgeon, turning bluffly round. "Leave none but the women with me, and not too many of them."

It is that which looks out of the eye, which sits in calm majesty on the brow, lurks on the lip, smiles on the cheek, is set forth in the chiselled lines and features of the countenance, in the general contour of figure and form, in the movement, and gesture, and tone; it is this looking out of the invisible spirit that dwells within, this manifestation of the higher nature, that we admire and love; this constitutes to us the beauty of our species.

She bit her lip and looked straight ahead. "After all," he said, "unless you are very keen on seeing Iris, I think we'd better give it up. There are too many people around her already." "Just as you like," she answered, "only it seems a shame that you shouldn't look over your own horse before the race if you want to. Would you like to try alone?" "Certainly not," he answered.

"Then it wouldn't be mine. The only love I understand is the love that fights for its object, in the face of all opposition." She looked at him a minute with what she tried to make a smile, but which became no more than a quivering of the lip and lashes. "I hope you won't fight," she said, in a tone of appeal, "because it would have to be with me. If anything could break my heart, that would."

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