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Indeed, I am half expecting you to tell me that he is." "Really, Harry, you are speaking too fast," said the colonel; "Captain Ripley is one of the finest officers in the navy, and having rendered the greatest possible service to my daughter and me, I feel bound to treat him with every consideration and kindness." "Which he repays by aspiring to my cousin's hand," answered Harry.
"Good piece of oats," yawned the stranger, listlessly. "That's barley." "So 'tis. Didn't notice." Uncle Ethan was wondering what the man was. He had some pots of black paint in the wagon, and two or three square boxes. "What do yeh think o' Cleveland's chances for a second term?" continued the man, as if they had been talking politics all the while. Uncle Ripley scratched his head.
"Grab 'em, fellows!" ordered Fred, making a leap at Dick, while the other intruders rose from their places at table. But Dick's right fist landed on Ripley's face, leaving a big, red mark there, while Dave's ready foot tripped the bully, sending him to the floor. Ripley was on his feet again in a twinkling. "Get back, Ripley!" ordered Dick, making a dash at him.
Susan agreed too, after a hesitation she did not really understand in herself. What pleasanter prospect could anyone have? While they were loitering over their luncheon, in the shaded, delightful coolness of the lunch-room, suddenly Dolly Ripley, over- dressed, gay and talkative as always, came up to their table. She greeted the others negligently, but showed a certain enthusiasm for Susan.
From Edwardsville, we proceeded by Ripley and Greenville, to Vandalia, the seat of government of the state. The prairies had lost much of the brilliant green colour which they possessed when we before crossed them, and they were now assuming rather a burnt appearance.
My cabin perished in a night, like Jonah's gourd perished that liberty might be crushed in Kansas; for without a garrison at Fort Ripley, my project was utterly insane. Every day, from my arrival in St. Cloud, evidence had been accumulating of the truth of that stage-whisper about Gen.
The entire country from Fort Ripley to the southern boundary of the state, reaching almost to the mouth of the Minnesota river, had been in a twinkling depopulated.
Ripley owned Great Hedge a long while before he sold it to me. He ought to know all about the queer, big old house, and why there are so many strange noises in it." "Is the noise the ghost?" asked Mrs. Bunker. "That's part of it." "What's the other part?" Daddy Bunker queried. "Well, it mostly is queer noises," said his stepfather.
Of these failures, the best known is Brook Farm, an intellectual community founded in 1841 by George Ripley at West Roxbury, Massachusetts. Six years later the project was abandoned and is now remembered as an example of the futility of trying to leaven a world of realism by means of an atom of transcendental idealism. In a sense, however, Brook Farm typifies this period of transition.
The next day I reached the brave old city of Ripon. On the way I stopped an hour or two at Ripley and visited the castle. The building itself is a good specimen of the baronial hall of the olden time. But the gardens and grounds constitute its distinguishing feature. I never saw before such an exquisite arrangement of flowers, even at Chatsworth or the Kew Gardens.
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