It2001 April 2010

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10 participants
13 discussions

Newman walke
by Dlouhy Guske 10 Apr '10

10 Apr '10

Ed several times in the Avenue d'Iena, and his host always proposed an early adjournment to this institution. Mrs. Tristram protested, and declared that her husband exhausted his ingenuity in trying to displease her. "Oh no, I never try, my love," he answered. "I know you loathe me quite enough when I take my chance." Newman hated to see a husband and wife on these terms, and he was sure one or other of them must be very unhappy. He knew it was not Tristram. Mrs. Tristram had a balcony before her windows, upon which, during the June evenings, she was fond of sitting, and Newman used frankly to say that he preferred the balcony to the club. It had a fringe of perfumed plants in tubs, and enabled you to look up the broad street and see the Arch of Triumph vaguely massing its heroic sculptures in the summer starlight. Sometimes Newman kept his promise of following Mr. Tristram, in half an hour, to the Occidental, and sometimes he forgot it. His hostess asked him a great many questions about himself, but on this subject he was an indifferent talker. He was not what is called subjective, though when he felt that her interest was sincere, he made an almost heroic attempt to be. He told her a great many things he had done, and regaled her with anecdotes of Western life; she was from Philadelphia, and with her eight years in Paris, talked of herself as a languid Ori

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Here was scarcely another matron in the parish who did not think a
by Cramm Enlow 08 Apr '10

08 Apr '10

Ine." "The villains! Who did? No, I'll not ask that, my lad," said the captain, knowing only too well who it must have been; "you have acted nobly, and I am for ever obliged to you. Come in, and have some breakfast, while I dress and report this, and see what is to be done. You are sure there is time?" "They was to go about at dinner-time to get the folks," John squeezed out of his mouth, much against his will. "Then there's time. Thank you with all my heart, John! I'll see you again. Here,"--to a barmaid who had appeared on the scene--"give this young man a hearty good breakfast and a cup of ale--will you?--and I'll be down again presently. Stay till I come, Hewlett, and I'll see you again, and how you are to get home! Why, it is twenty miles! Were you walking all night?" "Only I went to sleep a bit of the time when I was trying to make out the milestone; I don't rightly know how long it was," said John, so much ashamed of his nap that the captain laughed, and said-- "Never mind, Johnnie, you are here in the very nick of time; eat your breakfast, and I'll see you again." The good-natured barmaid let John have a wash at the pump with a bit of yellow soap and the round towel, and he was able to eat his breakfast with a will--a corner of cold pie and a glass of strong ale, such a breakfast as he had never seen, though it was only the leavings of yesterday's luncheon. Everybody was too busy just then to pay him any attention, and he had time to hear all the noises and bells seem to run into one dull sound, and to be nodding in his chair before he was called by a waiter, with--"Ha, youngster, there, look alive! the gentlemen wants you." Now that sleep had once begun upon

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nd a dripping-pan. Don't yo
by Homburg Macaraeg 07 Apr '10

07 Apr '10

Ince died out. Amphitheatres of the same type are to be seen at Dorchester, Old Sarum, Silchester, and other Roman stations. Mr. Wilfred Cripps, C.B., the head of a family that has been seated at Cirencester for many hundreds of years, has an interesting private collection of Roman antiquities which have been found in the neighbourhood from time to time. He has quite recently discovered the remnants of the Basilica or Roman law-courts. Turning to the place as it now stands, one is struck on entering the town by the breadth and clean appearance of the main street, known as the market-place. The shops are almost as good as those to be found in the principal thoroughfares of London. I have spoken before of the magnificent old church. There is, perhaps, no sacred building, except St. Mary Redcliffe at Bristol and Beverley Minster, that we know of in England which for perfect proportion and symmetry can vie

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It2001 April 2010