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Updated: August 11, 2024
Presently the herbs began to smoulder, and the smoke of them rose up in a thin, straight stream, that, striking upon the face of the Bee, clung about her head enveloping it as though with a strange blue veil. Then of a sudden she stretched out her hands, and let fall the two locks of hair upon the burning herbs, where they writhed themselves to ashes like things alive.
Some had brooded over their wrongs until they began to smoulder, and when they were told that the unprovoked raid of the Kafir thieves was deemed justifiable by the Government which ought to have protected their frontier, but had left them to protect themselves, the fire burst into a flame, and the great exodus began in earnest.
They tripped together, and in an embrace of self-preservation together fell into the cool still waters which ever draw unruffled, though their banks smoulder with passion and political intrigue from the Niagara to the Hudson. Shelby rose first, half-strangled, and laid hold upon the wall.
"I shall dine at Little Beeding on Friday," he said, "because Harold always gives me an admirable glass of vintage port"; and with that he dismissed the subject. Mrs. Pettifer was content to let it smoulder in his mind.
She set down her lantern, laid the crutch on the block Tenney used to split kindlings, set her foot upon it and methodically sawed it into stove wood lengths. When it was done she gathered up the pieces, carried them into the sitting-room, to the stove where Tenney always, in winter weather, left a log to smoulder, dropped them in and opened the draught.
In form it was like a great coffee-mill, such as I had seen in London, only a thousand times larger, and with heavy windlass to work it. "Put in a barrow-load of the smoulder," said Uncle Ben to Carfax, "and let them work the crank, for John to understand a thing or two." "At this time of day!" cried Simon Carfax; "and the watching as has been o' late!"
Coy, silent Monster, Matron of the fields, I sing to you; And all the fondest love that summer yields I bring to you; Yet there you squat, immense in your disdain, Heedless of all the tears of streaming rain My eyes drip over you your breathless swain; O stony Stack! Stupendous Maiden, sweetest when oblong, Does inner flame Now smoulder in thy soul to hear my song Repeat thy name?
There, famous in contemporary history, are two spots where a small portion of the hot cinders of Revolution seem ever to smoulder. When a wind blows from above, these burning cinders are dispersed, and fill the city with sparks. This time, as we have already explained, the formidable Faubourg Antoine slumbered, and, as has been seen, nothing had been able to awaken it.
Youth was rejoicing that night in Italy, when the war against Austria ended. And not youth only, nor Italians only. The British troops loudly and healthily and almost riotously sang also, all the temporary soldiers and nearly all the regulars. Yet here and there were gloom, and drab, wet blankets, trying to make smoulder those raging fires of joy.
I don't know that there is any thing else to mention, unless it be a gaunt lurcher belonging to Ben Burke, and with all a dog's resemblance to his master, who lies stretched before the hearth where the peaty embers never quite die out, but smoulder away to a heap of white ashes; over these is hanging a black boiler, the cook of the family; and beside them, on a substratum of dry heather, and wrapped about with an old blanket, nearly companioned by his friend, the dog, snores Thomas Acton, still fast asleep, after his usual extemporaneous fashion.
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