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One woman who is wearing a hat with enormous feathers and very high-heeled shoes, has two huge trunks. She tries to slip a five-franc piece into the hand of one of the custom-house officers.
He looked at her dress and shoes and said with a show of meanness: "Ruth, you didn't catch Twinkle-tail fair, on your line. You just walked into the pond and got him in a corner and kicked him to death brutally. I know you did. You're always cruel." Ruth laughed, and showed him the jagged cut in her hand where she had fallen on the rocks. Instantly he was all interest and contrition.
"Do tell me that I look like a real born-to-the-purple, tailor-made girl." Her father looked at her critically from the crown of her simple travelling-hat to the tips of her little shoes, and there was an unmistakable gleam of pride in his eyes as he completed his survey. "Yes, you do," he said, slowly. "You would pass muster anywhere.
If we see a shoemaker with his shoes out at the toes, we say, 'tis no wonder; for, commonly, none go worse shod than they. In that excellent institution that Xenophon attributes to the Persians, we find that they taught their children virtue, as other nations do letters.
Roquefort chomped on his cigar and looked solemn and well-informed. Charley shivered slightly, and wondered why. "Just crazy." Was that what they thought, he wondered. Was that what they were thinking when they looked up at him? He shivered again and slipped his shoes off quietly. Immediately, he felt a little better. But not very much.
At first, there were plenty of spare horses, but these had perished from accidents and disease; those which remained became daily weaker from over-work and want of water, and were sore-footed and tired from travelling over rocky ranges, their shoes, useless in the grass-land, having been long since removed.
If you get out of bed in the night be certain to put your shoes on first so you do not step on one of the pesky fellows," warned the guide. "Any other cheerful little features about this camp that you can think of?" asked Hippy solemnly. "Plenty, but I'll tell you about them some other time, unless you discover them for yourselves before then."
He brushed in between Beauclerk and the lady, and seizing her hand conducted her to her coach. A crowd of people collected to stare at the sage, dressed in rusty brown, with a pair of old shoes for slippers, a shrivelled wig on the top of his head, and with shirtsleeves and the knees of his breeches hanging loose.
In Denmark, in one of those green islands where the foliage of the beech-woods rustles in the wind, and where many Huns' graves may be seen, was another poor boy born. He wore wooden shoes, and when his father worked in a ship-yard, the boy, wrapped up in an old worn-out shawl, carried his dinner to him every day.
Don roused himself from his dull, discouraged mood. "Is there anything I could try, dad, to stop him? Just one more trial?" "You might take him by the back of the neck and tell him you're boss." "I would," Don said slowly, "if I were able." He went upstairs and got into uniform all except his spiked shoes. He would put those on on the porch where there was no carpet to rip and tear.
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