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He held the parcel close to his bosom, and went on, still praising Blossy, this innocent old gentleman, heedless of Angy's gentle tug at his coat-tail; while Blossy buried her absurdly lovely old face in the pink flush of a wild-rose spray, and the other old ladies stared from him to her, their faces growing hard and cold.
Indeed you have; you have escaped praising a person whom you did not want to praise, and you have escaped the necessity of tolerating the upstart impertinence of his menials."
But the friars remained hale and joyful, from the third to the ninth hour of the day, praising and glorifying the Lord. The Saracens, astonished at this, came to the friars, saying, "We intend to make a large fire, and to throw you therein; and if your faith is true, as you say, the fire will not be able to burn you; but if you are burnt, it will plainly appear that your faith is false."
I looked around me: the kitchen had been deserted by the greater part of the guests; besides myself, only four remained; these were seated at the farther end. One was haranguing fiercely and eagerly; he was abusing England, and praising America. At last he exclaimed: "So when I gets to New York, I will toss up my hat, and damn the King". That man must be a Radical, thought I.
Such appear to have been the angelic band, who united in praising God, when the Lamb prevailed to open the book of his decrees and reveal them to the apostle "And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation; and hast made us unto our God, kings and priests: And we shall reign on the earth." * Surely these must have been of our race.
Yes, some anti-Gallican cynic will say, the French rank him with Corneille and with Victor Hugo! But let me have the pleasure of quoting a sentence about Shakespeare, which I met with by accident not long ago in the Correspondant, a French review which not a dozen English people, I suppose, look at. The writer is praising Shakespeare's prose.
I like that name which the Spanish speaking people give to the garden of the dead, Campo Santo, as if it might be some bed of healing from which blind souls and sinners rise up whole and praising God. Sometimes the speech of simple folk hints at truth the understanding does not reach. I am persuaded only a complex soul can get any good of a plain religion.
Aided, however, by my devotion to him, and having received his permission, I have praised that Lord of sacrifices, that Deity of supreme puissance, that foremost of all creatures endued with intelligence. By praising with these names that enhance one's auspiciousness of the great lord of blessedness, a worshipper of devoted soul and pure heart succeeds in attaining to his own self.
Spring guns and man traps have been set for me, and I am legged! Meshed! Shot through the heart! I have been their puppet! They have led me, with a string through my nose, a fine dance! From the farthest part of all Italy here to London, in order to tie me up! Noose me with a wife! And, what is more strange, I am thanking and praising and blessing them for it, in spite of my teeth!
I ran a narrow risk in approaching them; they thought me an enemy, and I arrested their muskets only by a loud cry "I am Missi! Don't shoot; my love to you, my friends!" Praising God for His preserving care, I reached home, and had a long refreshing sleep. The natives, on hearing next day how I had come all the way in the dark exclaimed "Surely any of us would have been killed!
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