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Updated: June 7, 2025
"No doubt, their nerves suffered a little; but the young ladies loved him all the better for being witty and wicked; and thought if they could only marry him, how they would reform him." "Bettina Brentano, for instance." "O no! That happened long afterwards. Goethe was then a silver-haired old man of sixty. She had never seen him, and knew him only by his writings; a romantic girl of seventeen."
There was one silver-haired farmer living near the city limits by the name of Hilks, whose sympathies were entirely with the South, and he had boasted that all of Uncle Sam's hirelings could not locate his team. One of the members of Company K was a former neighbor of the disloyal farmer, and he made it his particular duty to see that this team, at least, should be loyal to the government.
Long before noon he breathed a leaden heavy sigh, refolded the sodden sheet and put it away in the box beneath the seat. The old mare took her own pace that day. In a brain that was already burdened until it fairly ached there was no room for the image of the silver-haired stone-cutter which had made for speed on other occasions.
Then in simple but strong language the silver-haired old man, who seemed a type of the ancient prophets, portrayed the great white throne of God's justice, snowy, too dazzling for human eyes, and the conscience-stricken man shrunk and cowered. He turned to Annie to see how this train of thought, so terrific to him, affected her. Not a trace of fear was upon her face, but only serene, reverent awe.
He turned to move away to the house, but his father stopped him; he knew that he had been discourteous a far worse crime in Lord Royallieu's eyes than to be heartless. "So you won the Vase yesterday?" he asked pausing in his walk with his back bowed, but his stern, silver-haired head erect. "I didn't the King did." "That's absurd, sir," said the Viscount, in his resonant and yet melodious voice.
They say he's the strongest man in the county." He unlatched the gate. "Folks used to say that about me once," he continued wistfully. "Ah, if I could have my eyes to see you meet Jules Rondeau!" The front portal of the quaint old Cardigan residence opened, and a silver-haired lady came out on the porch and hailed Bryce. She was Mrs.
Through the dim length of the apartment, where crimson curtains muffled the glare of sunshine, and created a rich obscurity, the three guests drew near the silver-haired old mail. Memory, with a finger between the leaves of her huge volume, placed herself at his right hand.
As the silver-haired pastor entered the pulpit the organ began to throb in a low prelude, and four gentlemen bore shallow waiters through the assemblage, to receive the contribution for the "Destitute." Mr.
Joseph Haydn, the silver-haired octogenarian, had still the heart of a fiery man in his bosom, and his trembling lips cursed the conqueror, the relentless foe of Austria, and called down the wrath of Heaven on the French emperor, who always spoke of peace and conciliation, and always stirred up quarrels and enmities.
Guy Foster, clad in a sou'-wester hat and oilskin coat, stood at the end of the pier of Ramsgate Harbour, with his sweet wife, Lucy, clinging to his arm, and a sturdy boy of about four years old, holding on with one hand to the skirts of his coat, and with the other grasping the sleeve of his silver-haired grandsire, Mr Burton.
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