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Updated: May 18, 2025
Lo, a little village in the department of La Manche, and who resided there during his early youth with his father, who was a tailor.
The "Moonshee," with a sober dignity, had interpreted for the British Commander of the Manche, and in due state, a return visite de ceremonie to General Wagge's mansion and headquarters strangely found Captain Anson Anstruther, A.D.C. of the Viceroy of India, a pilgrim to St. Heliers, to arrange secretly for "Prince Djiddin's" safe conduct and return to Thibet. The curious society crowd and St.
Keene's last visit in Dorade was to the Vicomte de Châteaumesnil. The latter manifested no surprise at the sudden departure, and expressed his regrets with a perfectly calm courtesy. But, at the moment of leave-taking, he detained the other's hand for a second or so and said, looking wistfully in his face, "Ainsi, vous partez seul? je ne l'aurais pas cru; et, je l'avoue franchement, ça me contrarie. N'importe; je connois votre jeu; et je ne vous tiens pas pour battu, quand c'est manche
Jean François Millet was born October 4, 1814, in the hamlet of Gruchy, a mere handful of houses which lie in a valley descending to the sea, in the department of the Manche, not far from Cherbourg. He was the descendant of a class which has no counterpart in England or America, and which in his native France has all but disappeared.
This was pretty well for a first newspaper paragraph, worth at the time, as I remember thinking, more than the paltry three sous a line that became my due. But I had made more than a few sous I had made an enemy! He admitted that he had said to the EMPRESS, "France is too small for me and VAN DE BLOWITZOWN TROMP. One of us must cross la Manche." Sublime! One of us did. But my time was not yet.
"Where do you come from?" "If I had to tell you all the places I have been to it would take me more than an hour." "Where are you going to?" "To Ville-Avary." "Where is that?" "In La Manche." "Is that where you belong?" "It is." "Why did you leave it?" "To look for work."
So off he started this morning the first thing. What a man, Mamma! crying like a child! His mother and the Baronne are very anxious about him, as if he really decides to "jeter le manche après la cognée," who is to pay his debts! But, as it is, the contrast between us Victorine and me whom he cannot obtain is too great, and the sooner I am out of his sight the better!
In an interesting series of articles by Bande, entitled, "Les Cotes de la Manche," in the Revue des Deux Mondes, I find this statement: "A spectator, placed on the famous bell-tower of the cathedral of Antwerp, saw, not long since, on the opposite side of the Schelde, only a vast desert plain; now he sees a forest, the limits of which are confounded with the horizon.
We might suppose from the hundreds of thousands of English travellers who yearly cross the Manche, that Picardy, Artois, and French Flanders would overflow with them, that we should hear English speech wherever we go, and find ourselves amid more distinctly English surroundings than even in Switzerland or Norway; but no such thing.
He had walked about seeking work for over a month and had left his native town, Ville-Avary, in La Manche, because he could find nothing to do and would no longer deprive his family of the bread they needed themselves, when he was the strongest of them all. His two sisters earned but little as charwomen.
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