Out of the Hurly-burly: Or, Life in an Odd Corner

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Page 323 - We complained, and they called us young rebels, and told us to help ourselves if we could. We told the captain of this, and he laughed at us. Yesterday our works were destroyed the third time, and we will bear it no longer.
Page 121 - ... How can her harsh sufferings be borne? When her death was first reported, her aunt got up and snorted With the grief that she supported, for it made her feel forlorn. "She was such a little seraph that her father, who is sheriff, Really doesn't seem to care if he ne'er smiles in life again. She has gone, we hope, to heaven, at the early age of seven (Funeral starts off at eleven), where she'll nevermore have pain.
Page 115 - that when the death of an individual is announced I want you, as it were, to cheer the members of the afflicted family with the resources of your noble art. I wish you to throw yourself, you may say, into their situation, and to give them, f'r instance, a few lines about the deceased which will seem to be the expression of the emotion which agitates the breasts of the bereaved." "To lighten the gloom in a certain sense,
Page 115 - Lighten the gloom. Do not mourn over the departed, but rather take a joyous view of death, which, after all, Mr. Slimmer, is, as it were, but the entrance to a better life. Therefore, I wish you to touch the heart-strings of the afflicted with a tender hand, and to endeavor, fr instance, to divert their minds from contemplation of the horrors of the tomb.
Page 125 - The poet determined to leave before any more criticisms were made upon his performances. He jumped down from his chair and crept softly toward the back staircase. The story told by the foreman relates that Colonel Bangs at the same instant resolved to escape any further persecution, and he moved off in the direction taken by the poet. The two met upon the landing, and the colonel was about to begin his quarrel with Slimmer, when an enraged old woman, who had been groping her way up stairs, suddenly...
Page 62 - I go plunging past, contribute to the excitement by whistling with their fingers, and the men who are at work upon the new meeting-house stop to look at me and exchange jocular remarks with each other. I do feel ridiculous; but I must catch that train at all hazards. I become desperate when I have to slacken my pace until two or three women who are standing upon the sidewalk, discussing the infamous price of butter, scatter to let me pass. I arrive within a few yards of the station with my duster...
Page 119 - Willie had a purple monkey climbing on a yellow stick, And when he sucked the paint all off it made him deathly sick; And in his latest hours he clasped that monkey in his hand, And bade good-bye to earth and went into a better land. '"Oh! no more he'll shoot his sister with his little wooden gun; And no more he'll twist the pussy's tail and make her yowl, for fun. The pussy's tail now stands out straight; the gun is laid aside; The monkey doesn't jump around since little Willie died.
Page 114 - ... counties of the State a person who appeared to him to be suitable. The name of the new man is Slimmer. He has often contributed to the Argus verses of a distressing character, and I suppose Bangs must have become acquainted with him through the medium of the correspondence thus begun. No one in the world but Bangs would ever have selected such a poet for an editorial position. But Bangs is singular — he is exceptional. He never operates in accordance with any known laws, and he is more than...
Page 123 - Oh! bury Bartholomew out in the woods, In a beautiful hole in the ground, Where the bumble-bees buzz and the woodpeckers sing, And the straddle-bugs tumble around; So that, in winter, when the snow and the slush Have covered his last little bed, His brother Artemas can go out with Jane And visit the place with his sled.
Page 113 - A rather unusual sensation has been excited in the village by The Morning Argus within a day or two; and while most of the readers of that wonderful sheet have thus been supplied with amusement, the soul of the editor has been filled with gloom and wrath and despair. Colonel Bangs recently determined to engage an assistant to take the place made vacant by the retirement of the eminent art-critio, Mr.

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