Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 13, 2025
Moggridge, who had dropped the subject; though a mind which again had asserted its dim preference for new fashions was perhaps groping after expression of some such perplexity as this: why, if a face has the same effect upon you as beauty, may it not be described as beautiful? If Mr.
Moggridge, to whom feminine beauty did not appeal, as the young lady freshened herself up after her travel in Mrs. Moggridge's best bedroom. "Why! she hasn't a regular feature in her face!" Mrs. Moggridge herself had neat little pretty features set in fat. "Look at that long upper lip and her nose!" Mrs.
And it is rather a pity if the reader imagines that to laugh at his neigh is to forget respect for his venerable faith. Thus mightily, gently, cunningly, coaxingly, Theophilus Londonderry breathed upon New Zion, and Eli Moggridge was a noble second, according to his word.
Moggridge, as became a successful man of business, and for him to conceive an idea was to carry it out, as goods were always delivered from Mr. Moggridge's shop, with despatch. Also in some dim far-off way Mr. Moggridge's mind had, all unconsciously, been stirred by vibrations of what we call the New Spirit. The new spirit of any age works its way even into its businesses, and though Mr.
The truth about life was to be paid for by lies about bacon and butter, or, let us say, business exaggerations rendered innocuous by custom, and therefore as harmless as truth. Obviously Mr. Moggridge, who not unnaturally had felt a sense of moving about in worlds not realised during much of the deep talk, was here an authority of importance, and the idea at once appealed to him.
It was that last poem, I think. It seemed so terrible to think of two people having to part like that; don't you think so, Mr. Moggridge?" Mr. Moggridge did. "And then," he said, "Miss Strange has such a way of giving it out, it's almost more than human nature can bear." "Yes; her voice," said Jenny, "seemed like a stream of tears."
James Moggridge is dead now, gone for ever. Well, Minnie "I can face it no longer." She said it certainly, leaning against the wall of the bedroom, and plucking at the little balls which edge the claret-coloured curtain.
Moggridge had not been satisfied with the colour of the platform. It wanted repainting, and I think it very likely that it was a strain of that boyishness which I hope survives in us all, and one of whose quaint fancies is an envy of house-painters, so happy all day with paint-pot and brush and great smooth boards to dab and smooth, that decided him to do the job himself. Mr.
We never grow tired of admiring the intelligence of their domesticated fellows, but this trait seems to me worthy of remark; it proves a very developed power of observation and reflection. The Trap-door Spiders of the south of Europe construct burrows which have been studied with great care and in much detail by Moggridge.
She mounted lightly, said a brief farewell, and, forgetting all about the call at Clankwood she had ostensibly come to pay, turned her horse’s head towards the lodge. “Well, I’m blowed!” said Moggridge. “They do blow one,” his patient assented. Naturally enough the story of this equestrian adventure soon ran through Clankwood.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking