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Poor and Prudence, having been thrust out of the barroom just before the mob thundered up against the barred door, had been borne back into the room again by the rush when the door was opened, and it was Mrs. Poor who now made a diversion. "Look a here, Abner Rathbun," she said. "W'at in time's the use of murd'rin the man? He hain't done nothin. It's the woman, as has got the keys.
There are so many other things to do here that it's a pity to waste time doing the same thing over and over again when you don't really need to." "I suppose that's so, too. It's always foolish to do work that you don't need to do I mean that can be done in some easier way. If your time's worth anything at all, you can find some better use for it." "That's what I say!
Even thus, O slayer of Madhu, did that Brahmana speak unto me. I offered to make gifts unto him of gold and silver and horses and cars. That foremost of Brahmanas refused to accept any of these as gift and went away. Meanwhile, urged by time's irresistible influence, I had to depart from this world. Wending to the region of the Pitris I was taken to the presence of the king of the dead.
"Ay, and, Barny, he'll do more than that for us: God prosper him at all events; I only hope the time's coming, Barny, when every one will be able to eat his own butter, and his own beef, too." "God send it, sir." "Well, Barny, I didn't hear from your brother Ned these two or three months; what has become of him?" "Ah, yer Reverence, Pentland done him up." "What! the gauger?"
"And how will you recognize your baby in this young lady?" asked Father Pedro, with a rapid gesture, indicating the comparative heights of a baby and an adult. "I reckon I'll know her, and her clothes too; and whoever found her wouldn't be fool enough to destroy them." "After fourteen years! Good! you have faith, Senor " "Cranch," supplied the stranger, consulting his watch. "But time's up.
When next season comes it will answer for itself, but I'm not a prophet I can't foretell the future." The Major looked in his face with bright, steady eyes. "You foolish fellow!" he cried. "You foolish fellow! You were always a bad hand at deception, and you are no cleverer than usual this evening. What are you afraid of, man? I'm not a coward! If my time's come, I can face it calmly.
"I'll pitch ye a yarn, lad," he replied, "if the master don't want to turn in. I'm fond of talking. All old men are, I think," he said, appealing to me. "The time's coming, ye see, when the gift o' speech will be gone from me. It's a great gift. But happen we won't lose it after all."
Moreover, he had the wakeful suspicious pride of a poor man in the presence of a rich man. He felt his old severity returning as he said, "The time's past for that, sir. A man should make sacrifices to keep clear of doing a wrong; sacrifices won't undo it when it's done. When people's feelings have got a deadly wound, they can't be cured with favours."
'Time was, time is, time's past, said the brazen oracle. Ida began to tell herself that for her time was verily past. Life, and youth, and love had been hers; but fate had been adverse, and she had wasted them, and they were over and gone.
Here is an extremely old and important question, settled in history only to be unsettled again. Everywhere it rises, dust on Time's road, and is laid only to rise again. Smith was still President. Who was in the right and who in the wrong in these ancient quarrels, the recital of which fills the pages of Smith and of other men, is hard now to be determined.
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