United States or Barbados ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Alice N. Lincoln and a young lady friend were so wrought upon by the filth and misery which they saw in certain tenement houses visited by them, in connection with the Associated Charities, that they determined to do something to better the condition of these poor people. They hired a large house on the corner of Chardon and Merrimac Streets.
She held two letters in her hands, which she many times re-read. They ran as follows: "CHARDON, Wednesday P.M. "My Dear Wife: Barton reached here on Monday P.M. I did not think it best to call upon him, and did not see him till yesterday morning in the court room, when, without looking me in the face save for a second, he bowed to me.
"You are very fortunate, monsieur," said the Marquis de Pimentel, addressing Lucien for the purpose of calling him M. de Rubempre, and not M. Chardon, as before; "you should never find time heavy on your hands." "Do you work quickly?" asked Lolotte, much in the way that she would have asked a joiner "if it took long to make a box."
"Dear David," returned Lucien, "she asks me to go to her to-day; and I ought to do as she wishes, I think; she knows better than we do how I should act in the present state of things." "Then is everything ready here?" asked Mme. Chardon. "Come and see," cried David, delighted to exhibit the transformation of the first floor.
"General Chardon, general of the vanguard, much loved by the Emperor, replied, "I think, Sire, that General Vandamme is still asleep; we drank together last evening a dozen bottles of Rhine wine, and doubtless" "He does very well to drink, sir; but he is wrong to sleep when I am waiting for him."
By the beginning of September, Lucien had ceased to be a printer's foreman; he was M. de Rubempre, housed sumptuously in comparison with his late quarters in the tumbledown attic with the dormer-window, where "young Chardon" had lived in L'Houmeau; he was not even a "man of L'Houmeau"; he lived in the heights of Angouleme, and dined four times a week with Mme. de Bargeton.
"Well, its bad for you, Chardon!" "How you mean, M'sieu Kit?" "Eat your last square meal. Saddle your best horse. Drive four packs and two saddle mounts along." "Oui? And where?" "To Oregon!" "To Oregon? Sacre 'Fan! What you mean?" "By authority of the Government, I command you to carry this packet on to Oregon this season, as fast as safety may allow.
For all answer, Postel shut the window with a bang, in despair that he had not asked for Mlle. Chardon earlier. David, however, did not go back into Angouleme; he took the road to Marsac instead, and walked through the night the whole way to his father's house.
The little druggist, whose head was as thick as his heart was kind, never let a week pass without some allusion to Chardon senior's unlucky secretiveness as to that discovery, words that Lucien felt like a stab. "It is a great pity," Lucien answered curtly.
Sell them their flour an' meal at what it has cost us here all they want, down to what the post will need till my partner Vasquez brings in more next fall, if he ever does. Sell 'em their flour at four dollars a sack, an' not at fifty, boy. Git out that flag I saved from Sublette's outfit, Chardon. Put it on a pole for these folks, an' give it to them so's they kin carry it on acrost to Oregon.
Word Of The Day