"let me be torn away," then i cried. "let another help me!"
"no; you shall tear yourself away, none shall help you: you shall yourself pluck out your right eye; yourself cut off your right hand: your heart shall be the victim, and you the priest to transfix it."
"i kin remember when her two feet was no bigger dan yer t'umb, and she weared worsted boots," moaned she.
"well, whata dat?" said the man.
"i kin remember when she weared worsted boots," she cried.
the neighbors began to gather in the hall, staring in at the weeping woman as if watching the contortions of a dying dog. a dozen women entered and lamented with her. under their busy hands the rooms took on that appalling appearance of neatness and order with which death is greeted.
she had kept still so long that all her round little fingers and her round little legs felt so stiff. then one, great grown person said: ``she seems a very quiet child.'' and the other said: ``she is a very quiet child--sometimes.''
but just then bessie bell turned her head, and though her round little neck felt stiff it did not pop!--and she saw--something in a corner that was blue, green, and brown, and soft, and she forgot how afraid to move she was, and she forgot how stiff she thought she was, and she forgot how still she was told to be, and she jumped up and ran to the corner and cried out: ``pretty! pretty! pretty!''
david livingstone was born in scotland, received his medical degree from the university of glasgow, and was sent to south africa by the london missionary society. circumstances led him to try to meet the material needs as well as the spiritual needs of the people he went to, and while promoting trade and trying to end slavery, he became the first european to cross the continent of africa, which story is related in this book.
"at burlington i made an acquaintance with many principal people of the province. several of them had been appointed by the assembly a committee to attend the press, and take care that no more bills were printed than the law directed. they were therefore, by turns, constantly with us, and generally he who attended, brought with him a friend or two for company. my mind having been much more improv'd by reading than keimer's, i suppose it was for that reason my conversation seem'd to he more valu'd. they had me to their houses, introduced me to their friends, and show'd me much civility; while he, tho' the master, was a little neglected. in truth, he was an odd fish; ignorant of common life, fond of rudely opposing receiv'd opinions, slovenly to extream dirtiness, enthusiastic in some points of religion, and a little knavish withal.
"we continu'd there near three months; and by that time i could reckon among my acquired friends, judge allen, samuel bustill, the secretary of the province, isaac pearson, joseph cooper, and several of the smiths, members of assembly, and isaac decow, the surveyor-general. the latter was a shrewd, sagacious old man, who told me that he began for himself, when young, by wheeling clay for the brick-makers, learned to write after be was of age, carri'd the chain for surveyors, who taught him surveying, and he had now by his industry, acquir'd a good estate; and says he, "i foresee that you will soon work this man out of business, and make a fortune in it at philadelphia." he had not then the least intimation of my intention to set up there or anywhere. these friends were afterwards of great use to me, as i occasionally was to some of them. they all continued their regard for me as long as they lived."
he looked dead enough, my friend,' the guardsman interposed. he had not yet left us.
'bah!' i answered scornfully. 'have you ever known me make a mistake when i kill a man i kill him. i put myself to pains, i tell you, not to kill this englishman. therefore he will live.'
'i hope so,' the lieutenant said, with a dry smile. 'and you had better hope so, too, m. de berault, for if not--'
'well?' i said, somewhat troubled. 'if not, what, my friend?'
'i fear he will be the last man you will fight,' he answered. 'and even if he lives, i would not be too sure, my friend. this time the cardinal is determined to put it down.'
when night slips down and day departs
and rest returns to weary hearts,
how fine it is to close the book
of records for the day, and look
once more along the traveled mile
and find that all has been worth while;
to say: "in honor i have toiled;
my plume is spotless and unsoiled."
lastday cxlviii bis