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Updated: July 11, 2025
On that occasion the docks, the riverside slums and dens, the river itself both above and below bridge, were scoured by gangs who left no stratagem untried for unearthing and taking the hidden sailor. The secret of such effectual concealment lay in the fact that the nature of his hiding-place mattered little to the sailor so long as it was secure.
There were delightful walks and drives up above. Bloomingdale was still a garden of sweetness. Riverside was unknown, only as the beautiful bank of the Hudson. You went and carried your lunch, or you found some simple cottage, where a country-woman dispensed truly home-made bread, and delicious ham, and a glass of milk, buttermilk on some days.
She turned away and went up the lane again, avoiding the inn and the riverside houses, walking slowly, her head down. And a thought came, her first hopeful thought. Could they not travel go round the world? Would he give up his work for that that chance to break the spell? Dared she propose it? But would even that be anything more than a putting-off?
But though Peter remained in it all day long though he haunted the riverside, and cast a million desirous glances, between the trees, and up the lawns, towards Castel Ventirose he enjoyed no briefest vision of the Duchessa di Santangiolo. Nor the next day; nor the next. "Why does n't that old dowager ever come down and look after her river?" he asked Marietta.
Numbers 28, 36, and 92 of the Riverside Literature Series consist of selections from Mr. Burroughs's books. No. 28, which is entitled Birds and Bees, is made up of Bird Enemies and The Tragedies of the Nests from the volume Signs and Seasons, An Idyl of the Honey-Bee from Pepacton, and The Pastoral Bees from Locusts and Wild Honey.
The gunboats pursued their way, and, disdaining a few shots which were fired from the ruins of Shendi, arrived, at about seven o'clock, within range of Metemma. The town itself stood more than a thousand yards from the Nile, but six substantial mud forts, armed with artillery, lined and defended the riverside.
The crowd turned, slowly shambled down the riverside, and left us three standing there. But not alone. Out of the shadow of one of the houses came two women. They stepped forward into the light of the bonfire burning near us. One of the women was very pale. It was Mrs. Falchion. I touched the arm of the man standing beside me. He wheeled and saw her also.
Father Damien is one of us as well. I have met him I know him by sight he lives and has long lived, in Riverside London. On the 30th day of October, in the year of grace one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five, there was gathered together a congregation to assist at the mournfullest service ever heard in any church. The place was the Precinct of St. Katherine's, the church was that known as St.
Then they passed out and the night swallowed them up. At a little before midnight on the next night, two motors filled with muffled human beings might have been perceived, or seen, moving noiselessly from Riverside Drive to the steamer wharf where lay the Gloritania. A night of intense darkness enveloped the Hudson. Outside the inside of the dockside a dense fog wrapped the Statue of Liberty.
The letter dropped from his nerveless fingers the objects in the room swam before his eyes, and like one on whom a crushing weight has fallen, he sat bewildered, until the voice of Rosamond aroused him, and fleeing to his chamber he locked the door, and then sat down to think. She was coming to Riverside, and wherefore?
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