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Whin no wan cud save her
Still the waves of human life kept rolling westward until they surged over all the lands and islands of the Great Sea, and the wandering mariners, seeking new homes, passed through the Pillars of Hercules out into the Western Ocean, and coasting along by the shores of Spain and France, founded nations that still bear the impress of their Eastern origin, and are known in history as the Celtic race; while the customs, usages, and traditions which their forefathers had learnt in Egypt or Greece were carefully preserved by them, and transmitted as heirlooms to the colonies they founded. From Spain the early mariners easily reached the verdant island of the West in which we Irish are more particularly interested. And here in our beautiful Ireland the last wave of the great Iranian migration finally4 settled. Further progress was impossible—the unknown ocean seemed to them the limits of the world. And thus the wanderers of the primal race, with their fragments of the ancient creed and mythic poet-lore, and their peculiar dialect of the ancient tongue, formed, as it were, a sediment here which still retains its peculiar affinity with the parent land—though the changes and chances of three thousand years have swept over the people, the legends, and the language. It is, therefore, in Ireland, above all, that the nature and origin of the primitive races of Europe should be studied. Even the form of the Celtic head shows a decided conformity to that of the Greek races, while it differs essentially from the Saxon and Gothic types. This is one of the many proofs in support of the theory that the Celtic people in their westward course to the Atlantic travelled by the coasts of the Mediterranean, as all along that line the same cranial formation is found. Philologists also affirm that the Irish language is nearer to Sanskrit than any other of the living and spoken languages of Europe; while the legends and myths of Ireland can be readily traced to the far East, but have nothing in common with the fierce and weird superstitions of Northern mythology.
"Oh dear, yes; my thoughts were certainly not to be marked 'confidential' or even 'private.' I was thinking about our going back to town."
Retief flipped over two pages.
. . . . . . . .
But to Coventry it was a garden of glamour and dreams. For him a delicious enchantment hung in the air, an infinite pleasure pervaded his being; he wondered how long it must be before he might dare to proclaim his passion, before he might hold this dear girl in his arms as his promised wife.
"Isn't it the custom?" the Aga Kaga smiled complacently.
From his pocket Link fished out a soiled half sheet of paper and tendered it to the bulging-eyed dog catcher.
There was a Jack Arm-strong who once fought Lin-coln when he was a clerk at Of-futt’s. The son of this man was in trou-ble. The charge was mur-der. His fa-ther be-ing dead, the moth-er, Han-nah, who knew and had been kind to the boy Lin-coln, went, now, to the man Lin-coln to plead with him to save her son. The case was tak-en up, and much time and thought giv-en to it. Things which were false had been told but Lin-coln was a-ble to search out and find the truth, and when at last he saw it and made oth-ers see it, the lad went free.
Hartford heard the squad leader: "It's Lieutenant Piacentelli, sir. He's here."
Judged by their morals Samuel Mason and John Setton were very much alike, but in their physical aspect they differed greatly. Mason was then about fifty-five years old, possibly sixty. Swaney, the old mail-carrier, who saw him often, described him to Guild: “He weighed about two hundred pounds, and was a fine looking man. He was rather modest and unassuming,
1.She was asking, alarmed and bewildered:
2."Never mind the formalities," he said. "Approach.">
The first day the Un-ion ar-my won; but the next day the right half of Ro-se-crans’ ar-my was bro-ken and fled to Chat-ta-noo-ga. George H. Thom-as, a brave man and a hard fight-er, by great skill held the left wing a-gainst charge af-ter charge that the foe made up-on it, and gave Ro-se-crans time to take such steps
Another shell burst against the side of the battleship, and must have made more or less of a dent in her armor. This was to be expected; indeed few of those many staunch warships would pass through this combat without signs to show for their perilous adventure. But if they survived the fighting, those dents would always be looked upon as marks of approval; just as a veteran’s wounds give him cause for personal pride.