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Updated: June 5, 2025
The Sabbath worship extended into Monday's conversation, and Tuesday's bargain, and Wednesday's mirthfulness, and Thursday's controversy, and Friday's sociality, and Saturday's calculation. "Through how many thrilling scenes had he passed!
But the great ones were able to help themselves; they inspected the shelves, perused the labels of every antiquated sauce and pickle bottle in stock since the "early days," and placed the best of these relics of a pre-consolidated era in heaps aside for Monday's dinner.
"No, sir; she can't ever tell how the cat is going to jump." Nor would he say more, though he most elatedly held a secret. With this circumstance I connected the announcement in Monday's Recorder that Mrs. Senator Floud would on that evening entertain at dinner the members of Red Gap's Bohemian set, including Mrs.
Monday's mind was alive to novel feelings, and aware that the approach of death frequently removes moral clouds that have concealed the powers of the spirit while the animal part of the being was in full vigour, he was surprised at observing the sudden change that was so apparent in the countenance of the dying man. "I believe, sir, I have been a great sinner," commenced Mr.
On the home road Donald had plainly indicated that he would enjoy spending the morrow with her, and she had advised him to take the books she had provided and lock himself in his room and sweat out some information about Monday's lessons which would at least arrest his professor's attention, and lead his mind to the fact that something was beginning to happen.
What a wondrous God is ours, who in the government of this great universe, does not overlook my mean affairs, nor forget His gracious promise, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee." Tuesday was a repetition of Monday's splendid business, and brought in the five hundred thalers which he needed the next morning to pay off the mortgage of his friend's house, due that day.
Martha Foote cast an eye toward the great walnut bed. "That's all right. Only, Nellie " "Yesm'm." "If I'm disturbed again on that woman's account for anything less than murder " "Yesm'm?" "Well, there'll be one, that's all. Good night." Such had been Monday's cheerful close. Martha Foote sat up in bed, now, preparatory to the heroic flinging aside of the covers.
It is the business of the truthful historian to narrate facts, not to palliate or extenuate the conduct of the various actors. Whether Ernest did right or wrong, at least he did it; he wrote a playful social for Monday's 'Morning Intelligence, and carried it into the office on Sunday afternoon himself, beause there was no postal delivery in the London district.
No scene could have been more peaceful, if Mrs. Poyser, who was ironing a few things that still remained from the Monday's wash, had not been making a frequent clinking with her iron, and moving to and fro whenever she wanted it to cool; carrying the keen glance of her blue-gray eye from the kitchen to the dairy, where Hetty was making up the butter, and from the dairy to the back kitchen, where Nancy was taking the pies out of the oven.
Militant! I never could make up my mind which made the fightingest reading in the San Francisco papers, the account of Friday's boxing contest or of Monday's meeting of the Board of Supervisors. They do say that a visiting Easterner was taken to the Board of Supervisors one afternoon. In the evening he was regaled with a battle royal.
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