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“He said—he said—that I must fill the station with honor; I didn’t understand exactly what that meant, but he said it because I am to have Kingthorpe. But I will not live there; they may all be sure of that.” [77]Their boat was a wreck, they found when they came up to it. The after water-tight compartment was completely stove in. This had caused the stern to sink. Two things, however, were in their favor. The front compartment, in which they had stowed their blankets, extra clothing, matches and the transit, was still intact. Also, as the after compartment had held only their canned eatables, the ducking had not hurt them. Few of the cans had fallen out. “And was he pleased?”.
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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Conrad
To Fancy's eye fantastic forms appear; There was something so fascinating, so rhythmical in this operation, that Bob had difficulty in tearing his eyes away and concentrating on his work. The giant now told them that he had received a message from his master, and that if the Princess would agree to marry a nephew of his, the Dragon would let her live; that the nephew was young and handsome; that, moreover, he was a Prince, and that she would be able to live with him very happily. This proposal somewhat lessened their grief; the Queen spoke to the Princess, but found her still more averse to this marriage than to the thought of death. "I cannot save my life by being unfaithful," said Moufette. "You promised me to Prince Moufy, and I will marry no one else; let me die; my death will ensure the peace of your lives." The King then came and endeavoured with all the tenderest of expressions to persuade her; but nothing moved her, and finally it was decided that she should be conducted to the summit of a mountain, and there await the Dragon. Poor Uncle Isaac! He was sick now again—worse, in fact. He had heart disease, Mother said. Jeremias the wood-cutter also talked of a pain in his heart, but since he had begun to rub himself all over with kerosene, he had become much better. It smelled dreadfully in Jeremias’s little hut, but he was better. Johnny Blossom would certainly write to Uncle Isaac and tell him that all he had to do to cure himself of the pain was to rub himself with kerosene..
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