Gabriel Conroy

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American Publishing Company, 1875 - Fiction - 450 pages
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Page 17 - March, 1848, and still falling. •It had been snowing for ten days; snowing in finely-granulated powder, in damp, spongy flakes, in thin, feathery plumes; snowing from a leaden sky steadily, snowing fiercely, shaken out of purpleblack clouds in white, flocculent masses, or dropping in long, level lines, like white lances from the tumbled and broken heavens. But always silently! The woods were so choked with it...
Page 17 - SNOW. Everywhere. As far as the eye could reach — fifty miles, looking southward from the highest white peak. Filling ravines and gulches and dropping from the walls of cafions in white shroud-like drifts, fashioning the dividing ridge into the likeness of a monstrous grave, hiding the bases of giant pines and completely covering young trees and larches, rimming with porcelain the bowl-like edges of still, cold lakes, and undulating in motionless white billows to the edge of the distant horizon....
Page 306 - Me shabbe you — muchee quick," caused the gold piece and the letter to instantly vanish up his sleeve, and started from the house in a brisk trot. Nor did he allow any incidental diversion to interfere with the business in hand. The noise of struggling in the underbrush on Conroy's Hill, and a cry for help, only extracted from Ah Ri the response, " You muchee go-to-hellee — no foolee me ! " as he trotted unconcernedly by.
Page 147 - Francisco d'Assisis under the choir seemed to belong to an older and more artistic civilization1... " b. The church at San Antonio (Gabriel Conroy). " The old church was unchanged — like all things in San Antonio — since the last hundred years ", says Bret Harte, " perhaps there was little about it that Arthur had not seen at the other missions. There were the old rafters painted in barbaric splendor of red and brown stripes; there were the hideous waxen glass-eyed saints, leaning forward helplessly...
Page 136 - ... dogs ran out and barked at him as their fathers and mothers had barked at the preceding stranger of twenty years before. There were the few wild, halfbroken mustangs tethered by strong riatas before the veranda of the long low Fonda, with the sunlight glittering on their silver trappings; there were the broad, blank expanses of whitewashed adobe wall, as barren and guiltless of record as the uneventful days, as monotonous and expressionless as the staring sky above; there were the white, dome-shaped...
Page 376 - I want to be an angel, and with the angels stand.'" "And thet woman hez a secret," continued Gabriel, unmindful of the interruption, "and, bein' hounded by the man az knows it, up and kills him, ye wouldn't let thet woman — thet poor pooty creetur — suffer for it! No, Jack! Ye would rather pint your own toes up to the sky than do it. It ain't in ye, Jack, and it ain't in me, so help me God!" "This is all very touching, Mr. Conroy, and does credit, sir, to your head and heart, and I kin feel it...
Page 171 - In a curtained recess an immense mahogany bedstead displayed a yellow satin coverlid profusely embroidered with pink and purple silk flowers. The borders of the sheets and cases of the satin pillows were deeply edged with the finest lace. Beside the bed and before a large...
Page 363 - to keep from the public the real motives of the murder, which it is pretty generally believed concerns some folks a little higher-toned than Sal. We mention no names, but we would like to know what the editor of the ' Messenger ' was doing in the counting-room of one of Pete Dumphy's emissaries, at 10 o'clock last evening. Looking up his bank account, eh ? What's the size of the figures to-day ? You hear us !" At one o'clock that morning the editor of the " Messenger" fired at the editor of the...
Page 18 - ... inhabited these solitudes had long since flown down to the lowlands. There was no track or imprint; whatever foot might have left its mark upon this waste, each succeeding snowfall obliterated all trace or record. Every morning the solitude was virgin and unbroken; and a million tiny feet had stepped into the track and filled it up.
Page 364 - You hear that ? they're coming." Gabriel nodded. Two hours before, when the contemplated attack of the Vigilance Committee had been revealed to him, he had written a few lines to Lawyer Maxwell, which he intrusted to the sheriff. He had then relapsed into his usual tranquillity — serious, simple, and when he had occasion to speak, diffident and apologetic. " Are you going to help me ?" continued Hall. " In course," said Gabriel, in quiet surprise, " ef you say so. But don't ye do now't ez would...

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