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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Ah well, poor thing," he said, "she has an uphill life of it. They don't seem able they don't seem to understand the art of making both ends meet." "It's a great art," said Robin. "Perhaps they could be helped," said Priscilla, already arranging in her mind to go and do it. "They do not belong to the class one can help.
Leaning at an angle of forty-five degrees against the driving rain, I staggered along the tram lines past the Casino, and feeling convinced that the tram lines must be correct, determined to follow them. After about half an hour's walk, mostly uphill, I became rather suspicious as to the road being quite right.
The Deacon's one-horse, two-wheeled "shay" could hold three persons, with comfort on its broad seat, and the twenty-year-old mare, although she was always as hollow as a gourd, could generally do the mile, uphill all the way, in half an hour, if urged continually, and the Deacon, be it said, if not good at feeding, was unsurpassed at urging.
And the things I've just ordered at the grocery can you bring them, too?" Mr. Blake nodded helplessly, and the blacksmith gazed at Harlan, open-mouthed, as he started uphill. "Must sure have a ailment," he commented, "but I hear tell, Hank, that in the city they never carry nothin' round with 'em but perhaps an umbrell. Everythin' else they have 'sent." "Reckon it's true enough.
Harris and I took some guides and porters and ascended to the Hotel des Pyramides, which is perched on the high moraine which borders the Glacier des Bossons. The road led sharply uphill, all the way, through grass and flowers and woods, and was a pleasant walk, barring the fatigue of the climb. From the hotel we could view the huge glacier at very close range.
"But you love your husband," Milly remarked as if to reassure herself. "Of course I do, or I shouldn't be living with him and bearing his children. But he needs me and the children rather more than I need him which is the better way." The Reddons lived on the fourth floor back of an old lantern-jawed building that tilted uphill behind Ste. Geneviève.
They had been across the ferry to Newtown with a load of Christmas truck. It had been a hard pull uphill for them both, for Joe had found it necessary not a few times to get down and give old 'Liza a lift to help her over the roughest spots; and now, going home, with the twilight coming on and no other job a-waiting, he let her have her own way.
Many people suffer from mountain sickness on this ascent, but I suffered from nothing but the excruciating cold, which benumbed my limbs and penetrated to my bones; and though I dismounted several times and tried to walk, uphill exercise was impossible in the rarefied air.
In a little while, in a few minutes indeed, they were moving, they were sweeping on under the cold, inquisitive beams of the search-light, on under the pelting hail of shrapnel which the French 75's were now hurling at them, and, crossing those irregular lines of grey corpses, dashing to the assault, were charging uphill at a rate which threatened to bring them to grips with the French in a very few moments.
The energy between the two was intense and relaxed at the same time. Patrick stared. "Hello, Patrick," Joe said, turning. "This is Daisy." "Hello, Patrick," Daisy echoed. She looked at him with calm gray eyes and then picked up her basket of clothes. "Well . . . " she said. "Onward," Joe said. "Yes." Their eyes met, and she left, walking as though she were going slightly uphill.
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