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Minnie Munn's funeral morning dawned clear and fresh. No word came from Bartholomew Storrs. I tried to find him, but without avail. "We'll go through with it," said Mr. Hines quietly.
"Can you tell me where I can get a bed for the night?" he asked, turning to his host. The evident refinement in his voice made that worthy look up from his literary occupation in some startled curiosity. "They ain't many places where they take niggers," he said with an unpleasant grin. "But I guess you might find a berth at Sally Munn's, if you ain't too particular about morals.
She felt the questioning intentness of Sheriff Munn's eyes on her stolid face and she felt that he did not miss the tremor in her eyes. "Where was your son this afternoon?" She smiled defiance. "I told you, on the beach." "Whose room is that?" Munn's forefinger pointed to Tobey's closed door. "That's Tobey's room," said his mother. "The mud tracks go into that room. Did he make those tracks, Mrs.
There are some other particulars in Mr. Munn's Treatise relating to the European Trade to the East at this period, which we shall select.
Now, Sir, what have you got to say for yourself!" Mr. Munn's teeth chattered, and his hands clutched one another convulsively. "Captain Dudleigh told me that she was under restraint here by by you and that she loved him, and that her only refuge was to be married to him. I'm sure I didn't mean to do any harm." "Rubbish!" said Wiggins, contemptuously.
"Isabel Munn's daughter, Bartholomew," I reminded him. Instead of replying he staggered out of the door. Through the window we saw him, a moment later, posting down the street, bareheaded and stony-eyed, like one spurred by tormenting thoughts. "Will he do it, do you think?" queried the anxious-visaged Mr. Hines. I shook my head in doubt. With a man like Bartholomew Storrs, one can never tell.
She had promised to spend this last evening with Arabella, and she must be cheerful and comforting. As she neared Mrs. Munn's house, Davy and Tim were sitting on the sidewalk before the gate, talking so volubly that they did not notice her approach. "Yessir," Mr.
The small silver penny was soon lost, and at this time was nowhere to be found. * Misselden's Circle of Commerce, p. 121. Misselden's Circle of Commerce, p. 121. * Happy Future State of England, p. 78. Munn's Discourse on the East India Trade. v Anderson, vol. i. p. 477.
We like to think she is a beautiful, beau-ti-ful lady, with long, pale yellow hair that pretty nearly drags when she walks. It would drag if she didn't wear such big tails on her skirts. That's the kind of hair I wish I had instead of kinky, woolly curls. Hers isn't a bit curly, but just falls back from her face like Jennie Munn's after she has had it braided for a long time.
Munn's jumping Bible, and of a drunken man punished for his intemperance by being lifted off his legs by an invisible hand! Cotton Mather's marvellous account of his witch experiments in New England delighted him. He had it republished, declaring that "he must be an obstinate Sadducee who doubted it."
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