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Michele Marchiano, spells the name in a biography which I recommend to those who think there is no intellectual movement in South Italy. But he himself, at the very close of his life, in 1902, signs himself Ger. de Rhada. So this village of Macchia is spelt indifferently by Albanians as Maki or Makji. He was the son of a Greco-Catholic priest.
'Poor Mith Ward, said little Ger, 'all-bodies would have headaches if naughty Jus throwed books at them! 'Ger, Ger, exclaimed Miss Ward; while up started Justin in a fury. 'I throw books at Miss Ward; what do you mean, you sneaking little tell-tale? he exclaimed. 'No, you're worse than that, you are a right-down story-teller. 'He's not, said Hec.
But I'm afraid you've not seen the last of him. Ger. Oh yes, I have! Old Martha would let in anybody, but I've got a man now. William! Enter COL. GERVAISE dressed as a servant. You didn't see the gentleman just gone, I'm afraid, William? Col. G. No, sir. Ger. Don't let in any one calling himself Waterfield. Col. G. No, sir. Ger. I'm going out with Mr. Warren. I shall be back shortly. Col.
I know that is a lie; for they have no eyelids and no irises to their eyes. Mrs. C. Dear boy, they shan't come near you. Shall I sing to you, and drive them away? Ger. No, don't. I can't bear birds in my brain. Mrs. C. How long have you had this headache? Ger. She's been buried for ages, and won't grow brown. Mrs. C. There's no woman there, Arthur. Ger. Of course not.
There is in the character of Oehlenschl ger, when he is not seen in the circles of the great, where he is quiet and reserved, something so open and child-like, that no one can help becoming attached to him. As a poet, he holds in the North a position of as great importance as Goethe did in Germany.
I should never get to Garibaldi, and never be rid of this red-hot ploughshare ploughing up my heart. I will not go mad! I will die like a man. Con. Arthur! Arthur! Ger. God in heaven! she is there! And the others are behind her! Psyche! Psyche! Don't speak to those women! Come alone, and I will tear my heart out and give it you. It is Psyche herself now, and the rest are gone! Psyche listen. Con.
C. What's this nonsense about Garibaldi, Arthur? Ger. Who told you? Mrs. C. You don't mean it's true? Ger. Quite true, aunt. Mrs. C. Really, Arthur, you are more of a scatterbrain than I took you for! Ger. Don't say that, aunt. I only take after my father. Mrs. C. Don't talk to me of your father! I have no patience with him. A careless hard-hearted fellow not worthy the name of a father! Ger.
C. If you mean Constance, I agree with you. She is a most provoking girl. Ger. Mrs. C. I'm very glad you were never so silly as take a fancy to the girl. She would have led you a pretty dance! If you saw how she treats that unfortunate Waterfield! But what's bred in the bone won't out of the flesh. Ger. There's nothing bred in her I would have out, aunt. Mrs.
Uncle Ted and Aunt Mattie will be our uncle and aunt to all of us just the same, once we're cousins. 'All right, said Justin and Archie, who were longing to begin another scrimmage of some kind. 'All right, said Pat, not quite so heartily, for he was disappointed of his argument with Aunt Mattie. 'All zight, said Hec and Ger Ger adding, 'but thoo'll be Mith Mouse always.
Hauing thus spoken the people had entrance, so that all the hall, parlours, and chambers being furnished with tables and stooles, they were conuenientlie placed, and serued with vittels to the full. Houed. Matth. Paris. Ger.
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