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The boy stood straight under the taunts his former friend heaped upon him. A little smile was at the corner of his mouth as he answered.,

Then Beauty began to fear that she had caused his death. She ran through the castle, uttering loud cries, for she was in despair. After having looked everywhere, she remembered her dream, and ran into the garden towards the water, where she had seen him in her sleep. She found the poor Beast stretched on the ground, and unconscious, and she thought he was dead. Forgetting her horror at his appearance, she threw herself upon him, and feeling that his heart was still beating, she fetched some water and threw it over his head. The Beast opened his eyes, and said to Beauty, "You forgot your promise; in my grief at losing you, I determined to let myself die of hunger; but I die happy, since I have had the joy of seeing you once again." "No, my dear Beast, you shall not die," exclaimed Beauty. "You shall live to be my husband; I am yours from this moment, and only yours. Alas! I thought the feeling I had for you was only one of friendship; but now I know, by the grief I feel, that I cannot live without you." Beauty had scarcely uttered these words before she saw the castle suddenly become brilliantly illuminated, while fire-works, music, everything indicated the celebration of some joyful event. She did not gaze long, however, at these splendours, but quickly turned her eyes again towards her dear Beast, the thought of whose danger made her tremble with anxiety. But what was her surprise when she saw that the Beast had disappeared, and that a young and handsome Prince was lying at her feet, who thanked her for having released him from enchantment. Although this Prince was fully worthy of her attention, Beauty, nevertheless, could not help asking what had become of the Beast. "You see him at your feet," said the Prince to her. "A wicked fairy condemned me to remain in the form of a monster, until some fair damsel would consent to marry me, and she forbade me also to betray that I had intelligence. You are the only one who has been kind enough to allow the goodness of my heart to touch yours, and I cannot, even by offering you my crown, acquit myself of obligation to you.",

Conversation may be divided into two classes—the familiar and the sentimental. It is the province of the familiar, to diffuse cheerfulness and ease—to open the heart of man to man, and to beam a temperate sunshine upon the mind.—Nature and art must conspire to render us susceptible of the charms, and to qualify us for the practice of the second class of conversation, here termed sentimental, and in which Madame de Menon particularly excelled. To good sense, lively feeling, and natural delicacy of taste, must be united an expansion of mind, and a refinement of thought, which is the result of high cultivation. To render this sort of conversation irresistibly attractive, a knowledge of the world is requisite, and that enchanting case, that elegance of manner, which is to be acquired only by frequenting the higher circles of polished life. In sentimental conversation, subjects interesting to the heart, and to the imagination, are brought forward; they are discussed in a kind of sportive way, with animation and refinement, and are never continued longer than politeness allows. Here fancy flourishes,—the sensibilities expand—and wit, guided by delicacy and embellished by taste—points to the heart.,

“I’m fairly out of my wits with joy,” replied Grandmother.

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This time a crash, a splintering of the wood was the result. Once more he dived into it and the next moment he was in the gray air of the early dawn.,

Perched round the stem,

When they had finished, Mr. Whitney was very much excited. “We’ll have to make a report of your find to Washington at once and, if possible, get a bill brought up in the next Congress to authorize us to make a preliminary survey. We can do it next summer.”,

"Ah! what have I done?" he exclaimed. "The young wretches shall pay for it, and that at once." He threw a jugful of water in his wife's face, and having brought her to, said, "Quick! fetch me my seven-league boots, that I may go after them and catch them." He set out, and after running in every direction, came at last upon the track of the poor children, who were not more than a hundred yards from their father's house. They saw the ogre striding from hill to hill, and stepping over rivers as easily as if they were the smallest brooks. Little Thumbling, who caught sight of a hollow rock close by where they were, hid his brothers in it, and crept in after them, keeping his eye on the ogre all the while. The ogre, feeling very tired with his long journey to no purpose—for seven-league boots are very fatiguing to the wearer—thought he should like to rest, and, by chance, sat down on the very rock in which the little boys had concealed themselves. As he was quite worn out, he had not rested long before he fell asleep, and began to snore so dreadfully, that the poor children were not less frightened than they were when he took up the great knife to cut their throats.