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The grand military parades how I shall laugh when I think of our poor little Presidios with their dozen officers strutting about " She stopped abruptly and bursting wildly into tears flung herself into her brother's arms. "But I never could leave you! And my father! my mother! all! all! Ay, Dios de mi alma! what an ingrate I am! I should die of homesickness! My Santiago! My Santiago!"
"Commissionaire, mi ladi," sung out a small shrill treble from the midst of a crowded cock-boat, nearly swamped beneath our paddle-wheel. What a scene of bustle, confusion, and excitement does the deck of a steamer present upon such an occasion. Every one is running hither or thither.
When we came out the procession had disappeared, but all round the church door, and picturesquely scattered upon the pavement in every direction, lay boys asleep, with their heads upon their arms. As we passed laughing through the midst of these slumberers, they rose and followed us with cries of "Mi tiri zu! Mi tiri zu!"
Come now, I'll have no put offs you must come, I say I ordher you I can't and won't meet her wid out you. Come, avick, an' you can sing mi the song goin' home come wid your owi poor ould father, that can't live widout you come, a sullish machree, I don't feel right here we won't be properly happy till we go to your lovin' mother." "Father, father, you don't know what you're making me suffer!
Ay de mi! as Carlyle used to exclaim, Ah, dear me! as our old women say, I look round for them, and see only their vacant places. The old vine cannot unwind its tendrils. The branch falls with the decay of its support, and must cling to the new growths around it, if it would not lie helpless in the dust. This paper is a new tendril, feeling its way, as it best may, to whatever it can wind around.
Greatly embarrassed, Newman shambled forth and, turning, faced us. "Now, sir," said the master, "catch the key-note from me. Do! Now re mi," and so forth. Bear-Tone had great difficulty in getting Newman through the scale. "'Fraid you never'll make a great singer, my boy," he said, "but you may be able to grumble bass a little, if you prove to have an ear that can follow. Next on that seat."
I have my instructions from Hermes, and if my feather is put to any such purpose, I am to call out and expose the offender. Mi. Hermes, of all people, grudge a man a little thievery? I'll not believe it of him. However, let us start; I promise not to touch the gold ... if I can help it. Cock. You must pluck out the feather first.... What's this? You have taken both! Mi.
He will sit far up on a dead twig of an old pine-tree, and utter a series of four notes, something like "do, mi, mi, do," repeating them without pausing till it is too dark to see him, all the time getting lower, sadder, more deliberate, till one feels like running out and committing suicide or annihilating the bird of ill-omen.
The notes came gradually more and more distinct, the tones swelled out into greater fulness, and at last, with one long-sustained cadence of thrilling passion, she cried, 'Non mi amava non mi amava! with an expression of heart-breaking sorrow, the last syllables seeming to linger on the lips as if a hope was deserting them for ever.
"But by the Virgin, it was worth it!" "Three thousand pesos d'oro!" ejaculated his auditors with one breath. Old Miguel dropped his glass which fell with a crash, scattering its contents and fragments over the floor. "Three thousand pesos d'oro!" he gasped. "Alma de mi vida! Soul of my life! 'tis the salary of a Bishop! Are you mad, Carlos Moreno?" "Perhaps.
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