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Updated: June 11, 2025
"What do you mean by a regatta?" asked Oxenden, lazily. "Oh, I mean a race with these paper boats. We can bet on them, you know." At this Featherstone sat upright, with his legs dangling out of the hammock. "By Jove!" he exclaimed again. "Betting! So we can. Do you know, Melick, old chap, I think that's a wegular piece of inspiration. A wegatta! and we can bet on the best boat."
The profound calm, the warm atmosphere, the slow pitching of the yacht, and the dull creaking of the spars all combined to lull into a state of indolent repose the people on board. Forward were the crew; some asleep, others smoking, others playing cards. At the stern were Oxenden, the intimate friend of Featherstone, and Dr.
It is the old lesson which Milton extorted from Satan: "'What matter where, if I be still the same "Or again: "'The mind is its own place, and of itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven " "That's good too," cried Oxenden.
"I hope," cried Melick, "that you do not mean to compare this awful rot and rubbish to the Germania of Tacitus?" "By no means," said Oxenden; "I merely asserted that in one respect they were analogous. You forced on the allusion to the Germania by calling this 'rot and rubbish' a satirical romance." "Oh, well," said Melick, "I only referred to the intention of the writer.
"I can't see how you can make anything out of that," said the doctor. "Very well, I can easily explain," replied Oxenden. "In the first place we must take the old Hebrew alphabet. I will write down the letters in their order first." Saying this he hastily jotted down some letters on a piece of paper, and showed to the doctor the following: Labials. Palatals. Linguals.
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