Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 17, 2025
Listen to this now. Here's one I'm fond of." He took the book out of Neal's hand, and read him "Holy Willie's Prayer." His dry intonation', his perfect rendering of the dialect of the poem, the sly twinkle of his eyes as he read, added exquisite malice to the satire.
See also Burnet's History of the Reformation of the Church of England, 3 vols., London, 1679-1715; Neal's History of the Puritans, London, 1793; Tulloch, Leaders of the Reformation, Boston, 1859.
To do him justice, indeed, along with his dependence on Vanbrugh Neal's opinion, there seemed to go a rather winning dependence on his affection. Mr. Neal was apparently a devout Anglican, of a delicate and scrupulous type. His temper was academic, his life solitary; rhetoric left him unmoved, and violence of statement caused him to shiver. To make the State religious was his dearest wish.
No wonder, therefore, that Neal's blood should cry out against the cowardice of his calling; no wonder that he should be an epitome of all that was valorous and heroic in a peaceable man, for we neglected to inform the reader that Neal, though "bearing no base mind," never fought any man in his own person. That, however, deducted nothing from his courage.
The things the family is planning to do with that ten dollars a week brought tears of joy to my eyes. Neal's going to have his mother-in-law on his side, anyway just as you had yours. I know now how mother felt." But John Barclay did not know how mother felt, and he did not care. He knew how father felt how Lycurgus Mason felt, and how the father of Mrs.
Neal's friend became more and more sympathetic toward the quest. One afternoon Mr. Neal detained the chief clerk as he was leaving the office after work. The little clerk's eyes were very serious, and his voice was low as he said: "John, I know that I am going to find him very soon. I know it." "How do you know it?" asked the chief clerk. "Something well psychic?" "Oh, no. It's not mysterious.
The excited party returned to camp, but not to sleep. They built up their scattered fire, squatted round it, and discoursed of the night's adventure until a clear dawn-gleam brightened the eastern sky. Then Uncle Eb and Joe started out again across the brûlée. They reappeared before breakfast-time, bringing Bruin's skin and a goodly portion of his meat. Joe laid the hide at Neal's feet.
The imperious expression fled from her brow, and found refuge in her eyes only. "And this, too!" murmured she, sinking back on her seat. She barely heard Count Neal's introduction. She acknowledged his respectful greeting with a slight inclination of the head, and remained silent. The king, who to-day seemed to be in a conciliatory mood, again came to the rescue.
The electric spark of thought leaped the long space of years from the child, Esmé, to the girl, in the vain love of whom he had eaten his heart hollow. For the moment, passion for the vivid woman-creature before him had dulled that profounder feeling almost to obliteration. Perhaps so the thought came to him he might find forgetfulness, anodyne in Milly Neal's arms.
Faix, I suppose, if you go an this way much longer, that you'll be thinkin' of another farm, in regard that we have some guineas together. Pettier, did you ever think of it, abouchal?" "To be sure, I did, you beauty; an' amn't I in fifty notions to take Harry Neal's land, that jist lies alongside of our own."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking