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In such wise was Desdemona won. It so happened that one evening she chanced to dine with a friend of hers, Mrs. Nicholas Manhattan by name, a lady whose sources of social information were large. Among other guests was Alphabet Jones, the novelist. "Did you ever hear of Mr. Usselex?" Eden asked, over the sweets. Mrs. Manhattan visibly drew on the invisible cap of thought.
"I have already signed my abdication," said Nicholas, "but on account of his health I have decided that I cannot part with my son. Therefore I wish to abdicate in favor of Michael." The two deputies asked leave to consult together for a few minutes over this change. Finally they agreed to this form of abdication. The czar then withdrew and presently returned with the document.
They found stalks of sugar-cane and bunches of bananas; wide-spreading guava and lime trees, loaded with fruit; and tall Avocado pear trees from which hung purpling globes of that great, creamy, most delicious fruit, commonly called alligator pear. They filled with fruit the shirts they wore, till they bulged like St. Nicholas, and made many trips between the trees and their canoe.
For the ideal perfection of perfidy, foreshadowed by the philosopher who died in the year of Philip's birth, was thoroughly embodied at last by this potentate. Certainly Nicholas Macchiavelli could have hoped for no more docile pupil.
No longer was he the frank, generous, chivalrous, and magnanimous prince who had called out general admiration, but a disappointed, suspicious, terrified, and prematurely old man, flying from one part of his dominions to another, as if to avoid the assassin's dagger. He died in 1825, and was succeeded by his brother, the Grand Duke Nicholas.
From the first there was a misunderstanding throughout the world as to what the Emperor Nicholas really proposed. Far and near it was taken for granted that he desired a general disarmament, and this legend spread rapidly.
I expect his message every moment. My name is Captain Smith." "And mine, Nicholas Clam, No. 4, Waterloo Place, Welling" "Then, gentlemen," said Major M'Toddy, lifting his hat, "I'm a lucky man fortunatus nimium, as a body may say, to find you both together; for I am charged with an invitation to you from my friend Mr Chatterton." "Oh! he wants to make it up, does he, and asks us to dinner? No.
My face must have turned very pale, for Nicholas, who came up at the moment, looked at me with anxious surprise, and asked if I were ill. "No," said I, hurriedly; "no, not ill but yes it is a slow process at best, and not always certain sometimes takes a day or two to culminate. The fusion may not have been quite completed, or it may have failed altogether.
In July of that year the Atlantic Monthly began publishing a serial entitled "The Autobiography of a Southerner Since the Civil War," by Nicholas Worth. The literary matter that appeared under this title most readers accepted as veracious though anonymous autobiography.
Lord Colambre was surprised to find that his father's agent resided in Dublin: he had been used to see agents, or stewards, as they are called in England, live in the country, and usually on the estate of which they have the management. Mr. Nicholas Garraghty, however, had a handsome house in a fashionable part of Dublin.
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