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Updated: June 16, 2025
Scarcely had he begun the record of that month than he uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. "December 2nd. Information laid against gang at Porter's Station, near Lynch's Creek. Charged with several robberies and murders in different parts of the county. Long been suspected of having stills in the swamps. Gang consists of four besides Porter himself.
Now any landshark, as has his eyes out of his heart, could see that Miss Lina's only took a faintin' turn, that comes after a skeer like hers, axactly as sleep stills a tired baby. Just give her here now, I'll take her down the river, throw a cap full of water in her face, and she'll be bright as a new dollar long before we get across."
Death stills disappointment as well as rage, and Falieri is said to have acknowledged the justice of his sentence. He had never made any attempt to justify or defend himself, but frankly and at once avowed his guilt and made no attempt to escape from its penalties. His body was conveyed privately to the Church of St. Giovanni and St.
The Father is the same great wise Friend in either case. They come among people, and find them in discord with one another, and their presence stills that; or they come into a man's life, when it is all in disorder and pain, and they bring peace there. They may not quite know it, but they do these things almost without meaning to do them.
Rising, she shook back her thick hair, passed her hands over her hot temples, and stood listening to the distant whistle of a partridge to the plaint of the lonely dove nestled among the pine boughs high above her; and gradually a holy calm stole over her face, fixing it as the merciful touch of death stills features that have long writhed in mortal agony.
Miss Flora McFlimsey was there: "That," said she, "is Mrs. Morris, of Fourteenth Street, a mysterious governess in the family of Mr. Osgood; and the gentleman is Mr. Osgood." What dost thou here, pale chemist, with thy brow Knotted with pains of thought, nigh hump-backed o'er Thy alembics and thy stills? These garden-flowers, Whose perfumes spice the balmy summer-air, Teach us as well as thee.
And there comes into my mind a line of poetry in which he is said to be the god who 'Gives peace on earth and calms the stormy deep, Who stills the winds and bids the sufferer sleep.
How she cheats their little hours of temptation, and tides them over the rough places that her eye sees lying like sunken rocks before her little ship! How skilfully she stills and heals their impulsive little passions by her sudden and absorbing surprise at some miracle in a picture-book, or some astonishing sight under her window!
Are there no vats in Milwaukee, no stills in Kentucky, no factories wrapping paper-rings around bunches of dead leaves at Tampa? Are there no men's tailors, gents' furnishing shops, luncheons, clubs, banquets, athletics, celebrations? And as for home expenditures themselves, is the man simply to bring the plunder to the door, get patted on the head, and trot off in search of more plunder?
Anathema of power so dread, It blends the living with the dead, Bids each good angel soar away, And every ill one claim his prey; Expels thee from the church's care, And deafens Heaven against thy prayer; Arms every hand against thy life, Bans all who aid thee in the strife; Nay, each whose succor, cold and scant, With meanest alms relieves thy want; Haunts thee when living; and, when dead, Dwells on thy yet devoted head, Rends honor's 'scutcheon from thy hearse, Stills o'er thy bier the holy verse, And spurns thy corpse from hallowed ground Flung like vile carrion to the hound; Such is the dire and desperate doom For sacrilege, decreed by Rome; And such the well-deserved meed Of thine unhallowed, ruthless deed."
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