"I wouldn't change carriages with the Baron von Blitzenberg--not even for a pair of dry socks and a cigar! Alas, poor Rudolph! May this teach all young men a lesson in sobriety of conduct!"
For which moral reflection the historian feels it incumbent upon him, as a philosopher and serious psychologist, to express his conscientious admiration.
IT was an evening in early August, luminous and warm; the scene, a certain club now emptied of all but a sprinkling of its members; the festival, dinner; and the persons of the play, that gentleman lately known as Count Bunker and his friend the Baron von Blitzenberg. The Count was habited in tweeds; the Baron in evening dress.
"It vas good of you to come up to town jost to see me," said the Baron.
"I'd have crossed Europe, Baron!"
The Baron smiled faintly. Evidently he was scarcely in his most florid humor.
"I vish I could have asked you to my club, Bonker."
"Are you dissatisfied with mine?"
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either a watch or a clock; and an old man who was supposed
thinkers and teachers had gone on and the foundations which
of traders and exploiters every whit as vile and vulgar
“It is not a bad little car,” said Mr. Barnstaple.
Obviously, the tide was rising; and, after seeking vainly
tin, with rubber air-bags round the wheels, very rusty
world to us. Do you find this world of our very wonderful?
Mr. Barnstaple lifted up his hands like one who worships
The people here live chiefly on shell-fish and potatoes.
for hope, incentive to effort. And now at last — this
He ducked rapidly, almost touching the muddy water with
“These things sound better in stories and histories than