Scarcely had they finished their ill-omened repast, when the air above us was darkened by two mighty shadows.
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Under this, we catch a glimpse of the Sultan and Grand Vizier, as they appear for an instant like black silhouettes against the burst of light on shore.
it has come to be my only food: And, as a lover of the Indian weed Steals to a self-indulgent solitude, To draw the dreamy sweetness from its root, So from the strong blithe world of valorous deed I steal away to suck this singing weed; And while the morning gathers up its strength, And while the noonday runneth on in might, Until the shadows and the evening light Come and awake me with a fear at length, Prone in some hankering covert hid away, Fain am I still my piping to prolong, And for the largess of a bounteous day Dare pay my maker with a paltry song.
Accordingly, without pitching a camp, or waiting for the enemy's army, they returned to Veii, taking with them the booty they had carried off from the lands; the Roman army, on the other hand, when they did not find the enemy in the country, being ready and eager for a decisive action, crossed the Tiber.
Nothing else exploded.
The burst of Alcatraz for the river and safety was a remarkable explosion of energy.
If we put the animal on its back in a rock-pool we shall see the tube-feet at work.
The other night the Professor and the Scotch Preacher happened in here together and we fell to discussing, I hardly know how, for we usually talk the neighbourhood chat of the Starkweathers, of Horace and of Charles Baxter, we fell to discussing old Izaak Walton--and the nonsense (as a scientific age knows it to be) which he sometimes talked with such delightful sobriety.
No image that fire, flame, brimestone, molten lead, or red-hot pincers could supply; with flesh, nerves, and sinews quivering under them, was omitted.
I happened to speak of the marvelous efficiency and preparedness of the German army in Belgium.
So long as we remained in France his humour was like this, delicate and expansive, but an accidental allusion led us across the Channel when he changed.
On the evening of the day when she was buried, a rich man went, not to Pilate, but to the cure of the place.
Gloom deepened and had no light to relieve it, men supped full of horrors--there was no slackening of the tension, no concession to overwrought nerves, no resting-place for the overwrought soul.
He that touches the hem of Christ's robe, and masters his mortal belief, animality and hate, rejoices in the proof of healing,--in a sweet and certain sense that God is Love.
I have not said a word of that kind.
Tunbridge, or as old folks still call it, "the Wells," was a gay, anecdotical resort of the last century, and about as different from the fashionable haunts of the present, as St. James's is to Russel Square, or an old English mansion to the egg-shell architecture of yesterday.
Sick and well, it was stated, were crowded together in a place where rubbish of every kind was thrown, an insanitary condition anywhere, but especially so in an Eastern climate.
The time of our visit was in the dry season, which lasts from October till April, and alternates with the wet one, from May till September.