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The phrase which he used recalled to Eveline's memory her boding vision or dream. "Alas!" she said, "the vengeance of the fiend is about to be accomplished. Widow'd wife and wedded maid these epithets have long been mine. Betrothed! wo's me! it is the key-stone of my destiny. Betrayer I am now denounced, though, thank God, I am clear from the guilt!
Just at this moment, on turning a bend of the river, the pretty little low- arched bridge that spans it in front of Richmond came in sight; seeing which, the children raised such a shout of joy in the bows of the gondola, that our conversation shunted into a fresh channel, while our teamster, urging his horse by a multitude of "gee wo's," into a brisk trot, tightened our tow-rope and led us up in fine style to our goal.
I was the first who communicated the tidings of the condition of their son; and the noise in the prisoner's cell, as the men still continued their operations, was a sad commentary on my words. The sister, who was veiled, uttered a shrill scream, and fell back on the floor. The father stood like "Wo's bleak, voiceless petrifaction,"
Wo's me, I never knew real trouble till I had it! Look at me, and judge; what has made me live like a beast, sin like a heathen, and lie down here like a felon? what has made me curse Ben Burke kind, hearty, friendly Ben? and given my poor good boy an ill-report as having stolen and slain? all this crock of gold.
Wo's me, I never knew real trouble till I had it! Look at me, and judge; what has made me live like a beast, sin like a heathen, and lie down here like a felon? what has made me curse Ben Burke kind, hearty, friendly Ben? and given my poor good boy an ill-report as having stolen and slain? all this crock of gold.
Readers, you should know that this was the very block of useless stone which had been on the Ta Huang Hills, and which had dropped into the Ch'ing Keng cave, in a state of metamorphosis. A later writer expresses his feelings in a satirical way as follows: Nue Wo's fusion of stones was e'er a myth inane, But from this myth hath sprung fiction still more insane!
Still in my peaceful home, on Severn's flowery banks, Where in my father's house, in sorrow and in tears, I left my mother and my fair young bride. Wo's me! What do I see! The dreadful form appears! Arrayed in lurid light, she from the raging fire Issues, as from the jaws of hell, a midnight ghost. Where shall I go? where flee?
So his godship smiled and shook his plume of peacock feathers benignantly on Yeong Wo's birthday, and therefore the pageant in which Atlantic and Pacific bore a part was more gorgeous than anything that ever took place out of the Flowery Kingdom itself.
And now I am again in the streets of the city, rattling with the racing flotilla of things awheel. What is song beside the soft melody of your smile? Normandy is in the night air ... "man lacht, man lebt, man liebt und man küsst wo's Küsse giebt" ... and we and all the world are young.
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