It was all right for the priestess, but it was a little dull for the rest of us, because she wouldn't let us sing, too; so we said we'd had enough of it, and if she couldn't find the gold we'd leave off and play something else. The priestess said, 'All right, wait a minute, and went on singing.

Ay, and I will keep my promise," he said; "but as Harek's heathen songs say, it is the sword's mass that I will sing to them." Then his eyes glowed, and he was silent, and I wondered at the courage and resource in the slight figure that was before me. "All goes well, and the plan is good," he went on directly.

Franz, you said you could sing a little; and if it's ever so little, you should sing WHEN YOU'RE ASKED! and with that Miss Jacintha offered him her hand, and led him to the piano. "Franz was annoyed, though he ought to been pleased. "'But how AM I to keep out of people's way, thought he to himself, 'if they will pull me forward? It's the oddest thing I ever knew. I can't do right either way.

The lady who sat next him looked round at the deserted house once or twice and then said: "What a pity there is such a poor house tonight! It's so hard on people to have to sing to empty benches." He took the remark as an invitation to talk. He was surprised that she seemed so little awkward. While they talked he tried to fix her permanently in his memory.

Oh, how lonely it was in the open country at night, in the midst of that singing when one cannot sing oneself; in the midst of the incessant cries of joy when one cannot oneself be joyful, when the moon, which cares not whether it is spring or winter, whether men are alive or dead, looks down as lonely, too.... When there is grief in the heart it is hard to be without people.

You say, "I never wish to grieve Him again." You sing it, and you feel it. "I never want to grieve Him any more;" and if you could only live without grieving Him, you would not much mind, even if it were in hell itself. Is not that penitence? You know it is. You renounce sin.

Found one that's got a cross on the shell. Might be that's another mark to tell how the old hermit inside has taken to hatching out a pearl." "Well, let's make one more try of, say half an hour," proposed Max. "All right," agreed the other. "It's getting a little tiresome, I tell you. And I cut my toe on a sharp shell. Sing out when the time's up, Max. Here goes to try along that point.

Theodor Korner, the noble young poet whose songs will commemorate the deeds of the Lutzow corps so long as German men and boys sing his "Thou Sword at my Side," or raise their voices in the refrain of the Lutzow Jagers' song: "Do you ask the name of yon reckless band? 'Tis Lutzow's black troopers dashing swift through the land!"

"Miss Oliver, what do you think about it?" she asked in desperation. "I think Irene is the one who should apologize," said Miss Oliver. "But unfortunately my opinion will not fill the blanks in your programme." "If I went and apologized meekly to Irene she would sing, I am sure," sighed Rilla. "She really loves to sing in public.

Burr recalled the incidents of his previous visit, and besought madam to sing again the songs which had delighted him that evening after the ramble in the woods. She cheerfully complied; for singing was her prime accomplishment. The lady felt keen enjoyment in the consciousness of being understood and sympathized with, by a man of brains and character.