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Updated: June 14, 2025
The young clergyman was touched by a passing thought of the painter's notorious ill-health. "Before the picture was finished quite completed the impish child began to waken in the wonder-child, and I had to comply with the demands of this new-born youngster.
I'm to be a secret until next season, maestro cried and Auchinloss Lilly, you need never be afraid for me you hear you hear never! We measured each other he called me wonder-child. Me Zoe. Lilly it's happened ... and you did it. Lilly, kiss me." "You darling. You're like a queen. All the little lives that go into the making of your cloth of gold, yet each proud to be ever so humble a party to it!"
"Then you declare on your honour as a priest," he said slowly, "that you do not know that my wonder-child is the boy who is buried beneath that stone?" "I buried that boy, and I declare on my honour as a priest that I do not know it," Uniacke answered, desperately but unflinchingly. It was his last throw for this man's salvation. "I believe you," the painter said.
Since they got to be in camp, all right I say, let them be there, if my heart breaks for it, but not my wonder-child! You get the exemption, Leon, right away for the asking. Stay with me Leon! Don't go away! The people at home got to be kept happy with music. That's being a soldier, too, playing their troubles away. Stay with me, Leon! Don't go leave me don't don't "
It had shown him that life was slipping, that afternoon was coming, that in a few more years he would be forty, that the "Wonder-Child," as Humboldt had styled him, was grown to mature man, and that all the vent he had as yet found for his great gifts was a series of scandalous law-suits and an esoteric volume of the philosophy of Heraclitus the Dark.
These hastily scratched words would be flung to the wind of gossip, that wind that blew so merrily among the houses where he was known. He had called Magsie his "wonder-child" and his "good little bad girl!" He had given her rings and sashes and a gold purse and a hat and white fox furs any one gift he had made her was innocent enough in itself! But taken with all the others
You're certainly a wonder-child, Mrs. McChesney. Why, the boys " Emma McChesney sighed, somberly. "That line does sort of well, tug at your heart-strings, doesn't it?" She smiled, almost wistfully. "Say, Billy, when you reach the Eagle House at Waterloo, tell Annie, the head-waitress to rustle you a couple of Mrs. Traudt's dill pickles. Tell her Mrs. McChesney asked you to. Mrs.
The wonder-child, born in Salzburg in 1756, and taken by his father from court to court, where he and his sister played to admiring audiences, did not, like so many wonder-children, fade from public view, but with manhood fulfilled the promise of his early years and became one of the world's great masters of music. But his genius was not appreciated until too late.
Gently she carried it to her dark lodge, and set it in a safe and quiet place. Next day within the shell, there lay a wonder-child, in face and form most beautiful. The little creature grew so fast that every day his mother went out to find new shells and larger shells in which to cradle him.
Izanagi, well pleased, said: "Though my children are many, none of them is like this wonder-child. She must not be kept in this region." So taking off the necklace of precious stones from his neck and rattling it, he gave it to her, saying, "Rule thou over the High Plain of Heaven."
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