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Uncle Isaac lay in the big carved bedstead. My, oh, my! how pale he was! almost as pale as Jeremias the wood-cutter. “Awfully busy. Tonight we are going out fishing.” Virtue's sigh, and Sorrow's moan!.

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There! Now he had an idea. She should have that rare postage stamp from Mozambique, she certainly should! The whole class and some of the big boys envied him his possession of that stamp and had begged and begged for it; but not one of them should get it, no indeed! As he swam nearer to the object which was swirling around in the water, it constantly eluded his grasp, but he saw that it was Jerry. It was as if the river was playing tag with him, snatching the thing he wanted out of his reach. Reason told him that Jerry was dead. What was the use of his trying to keep up this endeavor when it was all so useless? But something kept him striving, held him to his aim. He couldn’t give up. With a last despairing lunge, he shot into the eddy and caught his comrade’s shoulder. With infinite pains he swam with his prize to the bank. Safely there, he had only strength to pull it halfway out of the water. The Frog travelled over mountains and valleys, never stopping day or night; at last she drew near the capital, where the King was in residence. She was surprised to see dancing and festivity in every direction; there was laughter and singing, and the nearer she got to the town, the more joyous and jubilant the people seemed. Her rural equipage caused great astonishment, everyone went after it, and so large had the crowd become by the time she had reached the town, that she had great difficulty in making her way to the palace. Here everything was as magnificent as possible, for the King, who had been a widower for nine years, had at last yielded to the prayers of his subjects, and was on the eve of marriage with a Princess, less beautiful, it is true, than his wife, but not the less agreeable for that. “True, so it is. I suppose you are very busy nowadays?”.