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ongtemplest��isshebegan��aguessea��when the storm had subsided the peasants were crying and lamenting over the destruction of their crops, and all the large proprietors in the neighbourhood came most generously to their assistance. one rich man distributed forty thousand francs among them. the next year he was one of the first to be massacred.��owedandt����ofcountcaba��theend��themonotony����abarrus������
there was no time to lose�������ô���߶�ȫ����,�ϻ���������ôլ�ߵ�ݸʽ����qq; the furniture, &c., was sold at a loss, they packed up in haste, found a carriage with great difficulty, and on a cold, bright day in december they set off, they knew not whither.��may i just say something to you before we begin?�� she said. ��you may think it a great impertinence, but it is not meant impertinently.��the first great sorrow was the death of mme. de la fayette on christmas eve, 1808, at the age of forty-eight. her health had been completely undermined by the terrible experiences of her imprisonments; and an illness caused by blood-poisoning during her captivity with her husband in austria, where she was not allowed proper medical attendance, was the climax from which she never really recovered. she died as she had lived, like a saint, at la grange, surrounded by her broken-hearted husband and family, and by her own request was buried at picpus, where, chiefly by the exertions of the three sisters, a church had been built close to the now consecrated ground where lay buried their mother, sister, grandmother, with many other victims of the terror.then, while still the industrious press-cutters had not yet come to the end of those appetising morsels, the packets on her breakfast table swelled{261} in size again, and she was privileged to read over and over again that the honour of a baronetcy had been conferred on her husband. she did not mind how often she read this; all the london papers reproduced the gratifying intelligence, and though the wording in most of these was absolutely identical, repetition never caused the sweet savour to cloy on her palate. she was like a girl revelling in chocolate-drops; though they all tasted precisely alike, each tasted delicious, and she felt she could go on eating them for ever. even better than those stately clippings from the great london luminaries were the more detailed coruscations of the local press. they gave biographies of her husband, magnanimously suppressing the fish-shop, and dwelling only on the enterprise which had made and the success which had crowned the stores, and many (these were the sweetest of all) gave details about herself and her parentage and the number of her children. she was not habitually a great reader, only using books as a soporific till they tumbled from her drowsy grasp, but now she became a
in the autumn of 1790 lisette went to n�ϻ���������ôլ�ߵ�ݸʽ����qqaples, with which she was enchanted. she took a house on the chiaja, looking across the bay to capri and close to the russian embassy. the ambassador, count scawronski, called immediately and begged her to breakfast and dine always at his house, where, although not accepting this invitation, she spent nearly all her evenings. she painted his wife, and, after her, emma harte, then the mistress of sir william hamilton, as a bacchante, lying on the sea-shore with her splendid chestnut hair falling loosely about her in masses sufficient to cover her. sir william hamilton, who was exceedingly avaricious, paid her a hundred louis for the picture, and afterwards sold it in london for three hundred guineas. later on, mme. le brun, having painted her as a sybil for the duc de brissac after she became lady hamilton, copied the head and gave it to s�ֶ�������ôլ�߶�ȫ����ir william, who sold
"it is this," answered the doctor. "when the road was first opened, a countryman came to the backwoods to the station near the end of the bridge. he had never seen a railway before, and had much curiosity to look at the cars. when the train came along, he stepped aboard, and before he was aware of it the cars were moving. he felt the floor trembling,[pg 35] and as he looked from the window the train was just coming upon the viaduct. he saw the earth falling away, apparently, the tree-tops far below him, and the cattle very small in the distance. he turned pale as a sheet, and almost f�ϻ���������ôլ�ߵ�ݸʽ����qqainted. he had just strength enough to say, in a�ֶ�������ôլ�߶�ȫ���� troubled voice, to the man nearest him,combien de juges merc��naires,charles looked at him with some shadow of the pity he had seen to-day in norah��s eyes."so you have," was the reply; "an island was discovered some years ago, and was named brook's island, in honor of its discoverer. it was thought at first that the place might be convenient as a coaling station, but it is too far from the track of the steamers, and, besides, it has no harbor where ships can anchor.in the autumn of