Genre Romance. Page - 28

hey reachtheir fifteenth year. Then they go to work.In the Home of the Students we arose whenthe big bell rang in the tower and we wentto our beds when it rang again. Before weremoved our garments, we stood in thegreat sleeping hall, and we raised our rightarms, and we said all together with thethree Teachers at the head:"We are nothing. Mankind is all. By the graceof our brothers are we allowed our lives.We exist through, by and for our brotherswho are the State. Amen." Then we

his hand, the golden Papa has a letter; and after he has made his excuse for disturbing us in our Infernal Region with the common mortal Business of the house, he addresses himself to the three young Misses, and begins, as you English begin everything in this blessed world that you have to say, with a great O. 'O, my dears,' says the mighty merchant, 'I have got here a letter from my friend, Mr.----'(the name has slipped out of my mind; but no matter; we shall come back to that; yes,

/p> "That poor devil who escaped from Dartmoor five days ago." Dick smiled. "Is that your news?" "Yes." "There have been several escapes lately." "But they've all been caught in no time; this chap ain't, and by gum, lad, if he come'd my way I'd help him out. I don't believe they'll get him; at least I hopes not." "They'll have him right enough," said Dick. "A convict at large is a danger to all on the moor." "This one

me here as I stand. Shoot again, Umlilwane--shoot again, if you dare. Hau! Hear my word.' You have slain my dog--my white hunting dog, the last of his breed--who can outrun every other hunting dog in the land, even as the wind outstrippeth the crawling ox-wagon, and you have shed my blood, the blood of a chief. You had better first have cut off your right hand, for it is better to lose a hand than one's mind. This is my word,' Umlilwane--bear it in memory, for you have struck a chief--a man of

m grasp my hair and my shoulder: he had closed with a desperate thing. I really saw in him a tyrant, a murderer. I felt a drop or two of blood from my head trickle down my neck, and was sensible of somewhat pungent suffering: these sensations for the time predominated over fear, and I received him in frantic sort. I don't very well know what I did with my hands, but he called me "Rat! Rat!" and bellowed out aloud. Aid was near him: Eliza and Georgiana had run for Mrs. Reed, who was

brown, spring out of the thicket with a goatherd after it, calling to it and uttering the usual cries to make it stop or turn back to the fold. The fugitive goat, scared and frightened, ran towards the company as if seeking their protection and then stood still, and the goatherd coming up seized it by the horns and began to talk to it as if it were possessed of reason and understanding: "Ah wanderer, wanderer, Spotty, Spotty; how have you gone limping all this time? What wolves have

assist him in counting his gold. 'I don't want your help,' she snapped; 'I can get them for myself.' 'I beg your pardon!' I hastened to reply. 'Were you asked to tea?' she demanded, tying an apron over her neat black frock, and standing with a spoonful of the leaf poised over the pot. 'I shall be glad to have a cup,' I answered. 'Were you asked?' she repeated. 'No,' I said, half smiling. 'You are the proper person to ask me.' She flung the tea back, spoon and all, and resumed her chair in a