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He was a determined bachelor, a gallant, and the friend and patron of libertines. His chief defect was his forgetfulness and absence of mind, which made him mismanage important business. He was reputed, though wrongly, to be a liar. A liar is a person who tells falsehoods intentionally, while if Pittoni told lies it was because he had forgotten the truth.
The inauguration of the story hour then is but the grasping of an opportunity, first of all to give keenest joy to the child, and at the same time to set his standard for judging the value of other stories by those he hears, to give him a love for beautiful form, to introduce him to books he might never choose for himself and to bind him to the friend who tells him stories, so that he will feel a confidence in her suggestions.
"I have nothing," said Vesta to herself; "except love for these two martyrs, my father and mother. No, nothing can be done until he awakens and tells me the worst. Meantime it would be wicked for me to increase the agitation already here, and where I must be the comforter." Mrs. Custis was in no situation to give annoyance for that day, as a sick-headache seized her and she kept her room.
"Mebby if you think hard you'll remember it," he added encouragingly. "What color was it?" "Brown." "Did it sing like a robin?" "No." "Can't you remember one little, teenty speck of it?" incredulously. "No." "Aw, think hard. That's what the Dook tells me in school, and then it comes to me.
"Do you believe the story which the book tells is true?" the captain inquired. "I don't know. Some days I think I could believe anything about this country." "Have you shown the book to any one else, or told any one what you make out of it?" "No." "Do not do so, then. That is all, now. I will keep the book," he added, putting the little brown volume inside his coat.
She wishes her husband could "often secure some of those comforting smiles from the master," and tells him he is "no fool to be fond of those smiles," and promises to congratulate him if he secures some. Her heart is grieved when he is at a great distance from them.
In the twelfth book of the Prelude he tells us: There are in our existence spots of time, That with distinct pre-eminence retain A renovating virtue, whence, depressed By false opinion and contentious thought, Or aught of heavier or more deadly weight In trivial occupations, and the round Of ordinary intercourse, our minds Are nourished and invisibly repaired; A virtue, by which pleasure is enhanced, That penetrates, enables us to mount, When high, more high, and lifts us up when fallen.
Now, think it over, my child," said he as he kissed her. And he went away, so evidently uneasy, that his wife and children felt the gravest apprehensions. "Lisbeth," said the Baroness, "I must find out what is wrong with Hector; I never saw him in such a state. Stay a day or two longer with that woman; he tells her everything, and we can then learn what has so suddenly upset him.
"The watchman tells me a man came over who was making inquiries for Colonel Maynard. May I ask if you saw or heard of such a person?" "A gentleman got in soon after we left the station, and when the driver hailed him he went forward and took a seat near him. They had some conversation, but I did not hear it. I only know that he got out again a little while before we reached the hotel."
"In the meanwhile," said Cromwell, "their present state tells little for the truth of your own story, that there were horses to-day, on which this Kerneguy and your son fled from justice." "I did not say that the horses were kept there," said the knight. "I have horses and stables elsewhere."
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