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Updated: September 16, 2025
There is something almost treacherous in the facility with which an Irish girl receives your early attentions and appears to like them, that invariably turns a young fellow's head very long before he has any prospect of touching her heart. She thinks it so natural to be made love to, that there is neither any affected coyness nor any agitated surprise.
There is something about them that calls for his closer scrutiny; since after a glance or two, he turns his horse's head towards the tree, and rides on to it. Arrived under its branches, he raises his hand aloft, plucks off a spray of the flowers, and dismounting, proceeds to examine it with curious minuteness, as if a botanist endeavouring to determine its genus or species!
Not a glance back, not a word of farewell to the loved plantation of Trianon, and yet it is the last time that Marie Antoinette is to look upon it. She will never return hither, she turns her back forever upon Trianon. With flying steps she hurries on; Toulan does not venture to address her, and she has perhaps entirely forgotten his presence.
One consequence of the length of the days and nights here is, that every household is commonly divided into two parts, which watch and sleep by turns: nor have they any uniformity in their meals, except in particular families, which are regulated by clocks and time-pieces.
Rejected or neglected or passed by apparently without our having done anything in regard to it, what are the issues? What does it do? Well, it does this for one thing, it turns unconscious worldliness into conscious worldliness.
Being so young, and unacquainted with the turns of life-worn mind, I was afraid to say a word except to myself, and to myself I only said, "The man is mad, poor fellow; and no wonder!"
Through the whole poem runs an evident, almost joyous delight in what a woman has achieved, and as she passes from point to point, gathering force with every period, she turns suddenly upon all detractors with these ringing lines: Now say, have women worth or have they none? Or had they some, but with our Queen is't gone?
The damp sea air had drawn green streaks of mould downwards from each several jointing of the stones; the long-closed shutters of some of the windows were more than half hidden by creepers, bushy and straggling by turns, and the eaves were all green with moss and mould.
Her English was different from the ordinary in having occasional Italian turns and intonations. His partook of the same defect, but in a lesser degree. "But I have come," he stood up for himself, "and you were all out except Lily. Didn't she tell you I was there? We had a long talk. She told me her plans for the future. She is going to keep a school for poor children.
If all turns out well, I don't see why we should not live in London, for who will know there who her father was? That consideration was of no consequence so long as I looked forward to living the rest of my life in Basset Cottage: now there are other things to be thought of when there is a chance of my going among my old friends again." By this time, it must be observed, Mr.
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