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Sam Carter I know him. Who's the young man who followed him out?" "I don't know. Here's his signature. He's just made a big deposit on long time only one thousand on call. Unusual these days." Mr. Copeland's eyes glittered an instant. "Good. That's something. I decided to give the town people to understand that there is no need for their anxiety.
A great city it seemed to me then, and a seething vortex of business as well as a whirl of gaiety, as I saw it in Washington Street, and in a promenade concert at Copeland's restaurant in Tremont Row.
She shrank when Ridley on the tenth day begged her no longer to seclude herself in the solar, but to come down to the hall and take her place as Lady of the Castle, otherwise he said he could not answer for the conduct of Copeland's men. "Master Hardcastle desires it too," he said. "He is a good lad enough, but I doubt me whether his hand is strong enough over those fellows!
Ten minutes later he learned from Ruth that Roberta had gone back to Miss Copeland's school with the girl, recovered but weak. "Couldn't anybody else have gone?" he inquired, considerable impatience in his voice. "Of course lots of people could, and would. Only it's just like Rob to seize the chance to get away from this, and not come back. You'll see she won't.
Was it yesterday I visited Copeland's works, and saw them making plates? In the confusion of travelling about, it might be yesterday or it might be yesterday month; but I think it was yesterday. I appeal to the plate. The plate says, decidedly, yesterday. I find the plate, as I look at it, growing into a companion.
The Fifth Michigan cavalry was recruited under the title of "Copeland's Mounted Riflemen." One of the most picturesque figures in America before the war was John C. Fremont, known as "The Pathfinder," whose "Narrative," in the fifties, was read by boys with the same avidity that they displayed in the perusal of the "Arabian Nights."
"Bridley, go to my secretary and bring me the portfolio in the second drawer." Blake heard and yet did not hear the message. A fog-like sense of unreality seemed to drape everything about him. The earth itself seemed to crumble away and leave him poised alone in the very emptiness of space. Binhart was dead! He could hear Copeland's voice far away.
Copeland's book is specially adapted to the conditions of a community like ours. Its title might have been "Rural Æsthetics for Men of Limited Means, or the Laws of Beauty considered in their Application to Small Estates." It is a volume happily conceived and happily executed, and meets a palpable and increasing want of our civilization.
Copeland's book almost as good as owning that "place in the country" which almost all men dream of as an ideal to be realized whenever their visionary ship comes in. High Life in New York. By JONATHAN SLICK. Philadelphia: Peterson & Brothers. The advantages of a favorable introduction are very obvious.
With this may be mentioned A. Kohn's The Cotton Mills of South Carolina . M.T. Copeland's The Cotton Manufacturing Industry of the United States has some interesting chapters on the South. T.M. Young, an English labor leader, in The American Cotton Industry , brings a fresh point of view.
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