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The present is a probationary state; and although the particular mode of suffering be unknown, afflictions are not unexpected by Christians. But whatever is transitory is tolerable " the darkest day, Live till to-morrow, will have pass'd away."

My father had a great respect for Obadiah, and could not bear to hear him disposed of in such a manner he had moreover some little respect for himself and could as ill bear with the indignity offered to himself in it. Had Dr. Slop cut any part about him, but his thumb my father had pass'd it by his prudence had triumphed: as it was, he was determined to have his revenge. Small curses, Dr.

And her burning thoughts at once insensibly ran into the form and spirit of one of the many beautiful plaints of England's gifted poetess: "I heard a song upon the wandering wind, A song of many tones, though one full soul Breathed through them all imploringly; and made All nature, as they pass'd, all quivering leaves, And low responsive reeds and waters, thrill, As with the consciousness of human prayer. the tones Were of a suppliant.

I listened to their advice, and continued to discharge my duties as well as I was able." "Beware of desperate steps; the darkest day, Live till to-morrow, 't will have pass'd away." So sang Cowper, and so it proved in the case of I school! "I determined," writes the subject of our narrative, "not to abandon the school.

At Noon, we pass'd over such another stony River, as that eight Miles from Sapona. This is call'd Heighwaree, and affords as good blue Stone for Mill-Stones, as that from Cologn, good Rags, some Hones, and large Pebbles, in great abundance, besides Free-Stone of several Sorts, all very useful.

Wednesday, 30th. Fresh breeze and fair weather. At 1 a.m. saw the Comet a little above the Horizon in the East. It pass'd the Meridian about 1/2 past 4; the Tail of the Comet Subtended an Angle of 42 degrees. At 8 a.m. Variation per Azimuth 7 degrees 9 minutes East. Bent another suit of Sails.

Or take this: "Jerusalem a handful of ashes blown by the wind, extinct, The Crusaders' streams of shadowy midnight troops sped with the sunrise, Amadis, Tancred, utterly gone, Charlemagne, Roland, Oliver gone, Palmerin, ogre, departed, vanish'd the turrets that Usk from its waters reflected, Arthur vanish'd with all his knights, Merlin and Lancelot and Galahad, all gone, dissolv'd utterly like an exhalation; Pass'd!

The storm was that tremendous tempest which desolated the British coasts in 1703, commemorated by Addison in his "Campaign": "So when an angel, by divine command, With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, Such as of late o'er pale Britannia pass'd, Calm and serene he drives the furious blast, And, pleased th' Almighty's orders to perform, Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm."

Here, to my joy, in the arch'd passage of the barbican gate, was the carriage waiting, the porter standing beside the door; and here also, to my dismay, was a torch alight, and under it half a dozen soldiers chatting. A whisper pass'd on my approach "The Colonel!" and they hurried into the guardroom. "Good evening, Colonel!" The porter bow'd low, holding the door wide.

She hurried on in search of death, nor heard That eager footsteps followed where she went. The voice that call'd her was not real, she thought, But a sweet portion of a strange sweet dream For now the terrible anguish quickly pass'd, And sense of peace at hand was all she felt. "O stop!" Ah! that was real.