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The student, for whom my wife
washes, says that when we die we shall fly from one star to another. If that
were true, it would be very delightful, but I don't believe it. I wish I could
make a little spring up there now; I would willingly let my body lie here on the
steps." There are certain things in the world which should be uttered very
cautiously; doubly so when the speaker has on his feet the goloshes of Fortune.
Now we shall hear what happened to the watchman. Nearly every one is acquainted
with the great power of steam; we have proved it by the rapidity with which we
can travel, both on a railroad or in a steamship across the sea.
Nearly
every one is acquainted with the great power of steam; we have proved it by the
rapidity with which we can travel, both on a railroad or in a steamship across
the sea. But this speed is like the movements of the sloth, or the crawling
march of the snail, when compared to the swiftness with which light travels;
light flies nineteen million times faster than the fleetest race-horse, and
electricity is more rapid still. Death is an electric shock which we receive in
our hearts, and on the wings of electricity the liberated soul flies away
swiftly, the light from the sun travels to our earth ninety-five millions of
miles in eight minutes and a few seconds; but on the wings of electricity, the
mind requires only a second to accomplish the same distance.
The space
between the heavenly bodies is, to thought, no farther than the distance which
we may have to walk from one friend's house to another in the same town; yet
this electric shock obliges us to use our bodies here below, unless, like the
watchman, we have on the goloshes of Fortune. In a very few seconds the watchman
had travelled more than two hundred thousand miles to the moon, which is formed
of a lighter material than our earth, and may be said to be as soft as new
fallen snow.
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As for Isabella, she has been married
long enough to see the convenience of putting all the Mr. Westons aside as much
as she can." "Me, my love," cried his wife, hearing and understanding only in
part.-- "Are you talking about me?--I am sure nobody ought to be, or can be, a
greater advocate for matrimony than I am; and if it had not been for the misery
of her leaving Hartfield, I should never have thought of Miss Taylor but as the
most fortunate woman in the world; and as to slighting Mr.
Weston, that
excellent Mr. Weston, I think there is nothing he does not deserve. I believe he
is one of the very best-tempered men that ever existed. Excepting yourself and
your brother, I do not know his equal for temper. I shall never forget his
flying Henry's kite for him that very windy day last Easter--and ever since his
particular kindness last September twelvemonth in writing that note, at twelve
o'clock at night, on purpose to assure me that there was no scarlet fever at
Cobham, I have been convinced there could not be a more feeling heart nor a
better man in existence.-
-If any body can deserve him, it must be Miss
Taylor." "Where is the young man?" said John Knightley. "Has he been here on
this occasion--or has he not?" "He has not been here yet," replied Emma. "There
was a strong expectation of his coming soon after the marriage, but it ended in
nothing; and I have not heard him mentioned lately." "But you should tell them
of the letter, my dear," said her father. "He wrote a letter to poor Mrs.
Weston, to congratulate her, and a very proper, handsome letter it
was.
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The Snow Queen might come home now when she
pleased, for there stood his certainty of freedom, in the word she wanted,
written in shining letters of ice. Then they took each other by the hand, and
went forth from the great palace of ice. They spoke of the grandmother, and of
the roses on the roof, and as they went on the winds were at rest, and the sun
burst forth. When they arrived at the bush with red berries, there stood the
reindeer waiting for them, and he had brought another young reindeer with him,
whose udders were full, and the children drank her warm milk and kissed her on
the mouth.
Then they carried Kay and Gerda first to the Finland woman,
where they warmed themselves thoroughly in the hot room, and she gave them
directions about their journey home. Next they went to the Lapland woman, who
had made some new clothes for them, and put their sleighs in order. Both the
reindeer ran by their side, and followed them as far as the boundaries of the
country, where the first green leaves were budding. And here they took leave of
the two reindeer and the Lapland woman, and all said- Farewell.
And here
they took leave of the two reindeer and the Lapland woman, and all said-
Farewell. Then the birds began to twitter, and the forest too was full of green
young leaves; and out of it came a beautiful horse, which Gerda remembered, for
it was one which had drawn the golden coach. A young girl was riding upon it,
with a shining red cap on her head, and pistols in her belt. It was the little
robber-maiden, who had got tired of staying at home; she was going first to the
north, and if that did not suit her, she meant to try some other part of the
world.
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Upon this there was a great
uproar; even the engravings, which hung in frames on the wall, turned round in
their excitement, and showed that they had a wrong side to them, although they
had not the least intention to expose themselves in this way, or to object to
the game. It was late at night, but as the moon shone through the windows, they
had light at a cheap rate. And as the game was now to begin, all were invited to
take part in it, even the children's wagon, which certainly belonged to the
coarser playthings.
"Each has its own value," said the wagon; "we cannot
all be noblemen; there must be some to do the work." The money-pig was the only
one who received a written invitation. He stood so high that they were afraid he
would not accept a verbal message. But in his reply, he said, if he had to take
a part, he must enjoy the sport from his own home; they were to arrange for him
to do so; and so they did. The little toy theatre was therefore put up in such a
way that the money-pig could look directly into it.
The little toy
theatre was therefore put up in such a way that the money-pig could look
directly into it. Some wanted to begin with a comedy, and afterwards to have a
tea party and a discussion for mental improvement, but they commenced with the
latter first. The rocking-horse spoke of training and races; the wagon of
railways and steam power, for these subjects belonged to each of their
professions, and it was right they should talk of them. The clock talked
politics- "tick, tick;" he professed to know what was the time of day, but there
was a whisper that he did not go correctly.
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I have witnessed the homage paid to
her in the greatest cities of Europe. When they came to the tragic theatre, they
all sat down on the amphitheatre steps, and thus a small part of the house was
occupied by an audience, as it had been many centuries ago. The stage still
stood unchanged, with its walled side-scenes, and the two arches in the
background, through which the beholders saw the same scene that had been
exhibited in the old times- a scene painted by nature herself, namely, the
mountains between Sorento and Amalfi.
The singer gaily mounted the
ancient stage, and sang. The place inspired her, and she reminded me of a wild
Arab horse, that rushes headlong on with snorting nostrils and flying mane- her
song was so light and yet so firm. Anon I thought of the mourning mother beneath
the cross at Golgotha, so deep was the expression of pain. And, just as it had
done thousands of years ago, the sound of applause and delight now filled the
theatre. 'Happy, gifted creature!' all the hearers exclaimed.
'Happy,
gifted creature!' all the hearers exclaimed. Five minutes more, and the stage
was empty, the company had vanished, and not a sound more was heard- all were
gone. But the ruins stood unchanged, as they will stand when centuries shall
have gone by, and when none shall know of the momentary applause and of the
triumph of the fair songstress; when all will be forgotten and gone, and even
for me this hour will be but a dream of the past." TWELFTH EVENING "I looked
through the windows of an editor's house," said the Moon.
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"She has drunk herself to death," said the cruel
mayor. In the letter, containing the news of his brother's death, it was stated
that he had left in his will a legacy of six hundred dollars to the glovemaker's
widow, who had been his mother's maid, to be paid with discretion, in large or
small sums to the widow or her child. "There was something between my brother
and her, I remember," said the mayor; "it is a good thing that she is out of the
way, for now the boy will have the whole.
I will place him with honest
people to bring him up, that he may become a respectable working man." And the
blessing of God rested upon these words. The mayor sent for the boy to come to
him, and promised to take care of him, but most cruelly added that it was a good
thing that his mother was dead, for "she was good for nothing." They carried her
to the churchyard, the churchyard in which the poor were buried. Martha strewed
sand on the grave and planted a rose-tree upon it, and the boy stood by her
side.
"Oh, my poor mother!" he cried, while the tears rolled down his
cheeks. "Is it true what they say, that she was good for nothing?" "No, indeed,
it is not true," replied the old servant, raising her eyes to heaven; "she was
worth a great deal; I knew it years ago, and since the last night of her life I
am more certain of it than ever. I say she was a good and worthy woman, and God,
who is in heaven, knows I am speaking the truth, though the world may say, even
now she was good for nothing."
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