And Hannasyde abused the coolies with the
luggage, and hustled the people on the platform, and prayed that the roof might
fall in and slay him.
As the train went out slowly, Mrs. Landys-Haggert leaned out of the window to
say goodbye:--"On second thoughts au revoir, Mr. Hannasyde. I go Home in the
Spring, and perhaps I may meet you in Town."
Hannasyde shook hands, and said very earnestly and adoringly:--"I hope to
Heaven I shall never see your face again!"
nd Mrs. Haggert understood.
WRESSLEY OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE.
I closed and drew for my love's sake,
That now is false to me,
And I slew the Riever of Tarrant Moss,
And set Dumeny free.
And ever they give me praise and gold,
And ever I moan my loss,
For I struck the blow for my false love's sake,
And not for the men at the Moss.
--Tarrant Moss.
One of the many curses of our life out here is the want of atmosphere in the
painter's sense. There are no half-tints worth noticing. Men stand out all
crude and raw, with nothing to tone them down, and nothing to scale them
against. They do their work, and grow to think that there is nothing but their
work, and nothing like their work, and that they are the real pivots on which
the administration turns.
Pages:
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822