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Updated: May 5, 2025
"Leoni," interrupted the King, "what are you writing?" "A suggestion, sir, to offer you." The King crossed the chamber, and, leaning over Leoni's shoulder, read out the words: "To our well-beloved Cousin, Henry, King of England. "Dear Cousin and King, "The bearer of this our letter, the noble Comte Reginald Herault de la Seine of Angomar and Villay, is our good friend.
For although I must confess it reads very much like an application or a testimonial or some such thing as that, I can assure you I am writing this in fear and trembling with a sinking heart.
Eildon had just sailed for Australia. When Lady Arthur heard this she said, "I'll write to him." When she had finished writing she said, "You'll send this to him whenever you get his address. I wish we could have sent it off at once, for it will be provoking if I don't die, after all; and I positively begin to feel as if that were not going to be my luck at this time."
Much of her significance lies in her promise. Faithful to her original vision, she has moved steadily onward, growing, writing no book like its predecessor, applying her wisdom continually to new knowledge, leaving behind her a rich detritus which she will perhaps be willing to consider detritus if it helps to nourish subsequent generations. Immigrants
MR. CARLYLE, some time since, awakened a little pleasantry by writing of his own experience of the Ruffian of the streets. I have seen the Ruffian act in exact accordance with Mr. Carlyle's description, innumerable times, and I never saw him checked.
One feels that, while the style retains its fluency, the tone has lost its warmth, and that much of the writing must have been perfunctory: the reading, at all events, cannot but be so. But scarcely any one, however well acquainted with the ground, can follow without pleasure and an enlargement of view Mr. Mr.
That is impossible, but she looks for him to come in the winter to England. She speaks of July as fatal to her for good and ill. "On this very very day" she is writing July 28 "I went to France with my Shelley. How young, heedless, and happy and poor we were then, and now my sleeping boy is all that is left to me of that time my boy and a thousand recollections which never sleep."
Smith's library he was sitting in a circle of lamplight at his big table, writing and smoking. He looked up at her with a resigned shrug. "Wants something done to her confounded house!" he thought. But he put down his cigar, got on his feet, and said, in his genial, wealthy way: "Well, my good neighbor! How are you?" Miss Lydia could only gasp, "Mr. "Mr. Smith " "Sit down, sit down!" he said.
I'll sit up to-night and fix them off, and go on writing as long as I can keep awake, but I can't take a dozen books up to town with me, so I must leave it to you to finish up. I'll mark the passages I choose, write the full address on a piece of paper, and leave everything ready for you to make up the parcel.
Writing and literature, religion and mythology, history and science, all these were brought to the peoples of Canaan in the train of Babylonian conquest and trade. Art naturally went hand in hand with this imported culture. The seal-cylinders of the Chaldæans were imitated, and Babylonian figures and ornamental designs were borrowed and modified by the Canaanitish artists.
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