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Updated: May 12, 2025


Hand in your resignation, or get a dispensation, or whatever you have to do to get a release from this ice factory. You'll get catarrh here, Johnny and My God! you haven't any socks on!" Bellchambers looked down at his sandaled feet and smiled. "You fellows don't understand," he said, soothingly. "It's nice of you to want me to go back, but the old life will never know me again.

Groups of white-garbed pilgrims from distant cities passed on to worship, their tinkling bells keeping time to the soft pad of their sandaled feet. Under the overhanging boughs of the ancient trees were placed low platforms spread with bright red blankets, and thereon sat the family groups. In these throngs very few were well off in worldly possessions.

Then, shuffling their sandaled feet, the six went out through a door at the side. "I thought you said," said Kendric, "that since your father's death no man had entered here?" "And do these six look as though they had come here recently from the outside world?" she retorted, smiling. "The youngest of them, Señor Jim, first came to Nezahualcoyotl's gardens more than sixty years ago.

As the sun went down, the pillared forest aisles stretching westward, filled first with golden haze, then glowed with a light redder than Phthiotan wine poured from the burning beaker of the sun; and only the mournful cooing of doves broke the solemn silence as the pine organ whispered its low coranach for the dead day; and the cool shadow of coming night crept, purple-mantled, velvet- sandaled, down the forest glades.

Presently he felt a light touch upon his shoulder. He turned, and saw Herodias standing beside him. A purple robe enveloped her, falling to her sandaled feet. Having left her chamber hurriedly, she wore no jewels nor other ornaments.

As Mrs Vincent Crummles recrossed back to the table, there bounded on to the stage from some mysterious inlet, a little girl in a dirty white frock with tucks up to the knees, short trousers, sandaled shoes, white spencer, pink gauze bonnet, green veil and curl papers; who turned a pirouette, cut twice in the air, turned another pirouette, then, looking off at the opposite wing, shrieked, bounded forward to within six inches of the footlights, and fell into a beautiful attitude of terror, as a shabby gentleman in an old pair of buff slippers came in at one powerful slide, and chattering his teeth, fiercely brandished a walking-stick.

To the reader, thinker, and poet the memories and associations of these Missions form, next to the gifts of Nature, the greatest charm of Southern California; and, happily, although that semi-patriarchal life has passed away, its influence still lingers; for, scattered along the coast some struggling in poverty, some lying in neglect are the adobe churches, cloisters, and fertile Mission-fields of San Juan Capistrano, San Fernando Rey, Santa Monica, Santa Barbara, and Santa Cruz, all of which still preserve the soft and gracious names, so generously given in those early days, and fill us with a genuine reverence for the sandaled monks, who by incessant toil transformed this barren region into a garden, covered these boundless plains with flocks and herds, and dealt so wisely with the Indians that even their poor descendants, to-day, reverence their memory.

Here Philosophy With Plato dwelt, and burst the chains of mind; Here, with his stole across his shoulders flung, His homely garments with a leathern zone Confined, his snowy beard low clust'ring down Upon his ample chest, his keen dark eye Glancing from underneath the arched brow, He fixed his sandaled foot, and on his staff Leaned, while to his disciples he declared How all creation's mighty fabric rose From the abyss of chaos: next he traced The bounds of virtue and of vice; the source Of good and evil; sketched the ideal form Of beauty, and unfolded all the powers Of mind by which it ranges uncontrolled, And soars from earth to immortality.

There were roofs of sound fir and sweet cedar, carven cornices, cave-like window embrasures with no glass, and little circular rooms built about shrines in which sat broken images of Baal the sun god, of a sandaled Astarte, and a ravening Melkarth, with the lion's skin.

The old woman on the ground alone made audible reply, and her slavish whining enraged Dolores. With a stamp of her sandaled foot she tore from her waist the gold cord, slipped off the dagger sheath, and fell upon the wretched old servitor with a shower of blows. "Silence, old cat!" she cried, and the blows fell heavily. "Up with thee, and away.

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