T Mask hen he began to talk very gently about different sorts of kindness, and that if I wished 55 to be kind like a Christian, I must be kind without hoping for any reward, whether gratitude or t mask anything else. He told me that the best followers of Jesus in all times had tried hard to do everything, however small, simply for God s sake, and to put themselves away. That they often began even their letters, etc., with such words, as, Glory to God, to remind themselves that everything t mask they did, to be perfect, must be done to God, and God alone. And that in doing good kind things even, they were afraid lest, though the thing was right, the wish to do it design your own white face masks might have come from conceit or presumption. This self devotion, he added, is the very highest Christian life, and seems, I dare say, very hard for you even to understand, and much more so to put in practice. But we must all try for it in the best way we can, little woman and for those who by God s grace really practised it, it was almost as impossible to be downcast or disappointed as if they were already in Heaven. They wished for nothing to happen to themselves but God s will they did nothing but for God s glory. And so a very good bishop says, I have my end, whether I succeed or am disappointed. So you will have your end, my child, in being kind to these little birds in the right way, and denying yourself, whether they know you or not. 56 I could not have understood all he said but I am afraid I did not try to understand what I might have done however, I said no more, and stood silent, while he comforted me with the promise of a new flower for my garden, called hen and chickens, which he said I was to take care of instead of the little blackbirds. When he was gone I went back to the holly bush, and stood gazing at the nest, and nursing angry thoughts in my heart. What a preach, I thought, about nothing as if there could be any conceit and presumption in taking care of three poor little birds The curate must forget that I was growing into a big girl and as to not knowing how to feed them, I knew as well as he did that birds lived upon worms, and liked bread crumbs. And t mask so thinking wrong ended as it almost always does in doing wrong and I took the three little blackbirds out of the nest, popped them into my pocket handkerchief, and ran home. And I took some trouble to keep them out of everyone s sight even out of my mother s for I did not want to hear any more grown up opinions on the matter. I filled a basket with t mask cotton wool, and put the birds inside, and took them into a little room downstairs, where they would be warm. Before I went to bed I put two or three worms, and a large supply of 57 soaked bread crumbs, in the nest, close to their little beaks. What can they want m.s comes in the night down the chimney, and fills the little shoes which are ranged there for the purpose with sweetmeats or rods, according to his opinion of their owner s conduct during the past year. The t mask Saint is supposed to travel through the air, and to be followed by an ass laden with two panniers, one of which contains the good things, and the t mask other the birch, and he leaves his ass at the top of the chimney and comes down alone. The same belief is entertained in Holland and in some parts of Germany he is even believed to carry off bad boys and girls in his sack, answering in this respect to our English Bogy. The day, as may be supposed, is looked forward to with no small amount of anxiety very clean and tidy are the little shoes placed by the young 79 expectants and their parents who have threatened and promised in St. Nicholas s name for a year past take care that, with one sort of present or the other, the shoes are well filled. The great question rods or sweetmeats is, however, finally settled for each individual before breakfast time on the great day and before dinner, despite maternal warnings, most of the said sweetmeats have been consumed. And so it came to pass that Friedrich and his brothers and sisters had hit upon a plan for ending the day, with the same spirit and enjoyment with which it opened. The mother, by a little kind man uvring, generally induced the father to sup and take t mask his evening pipe with a neighbour, for the tradesman was one of those whose presence is rather a wet blanket upon all innocent folly and fun. Then she good naturedly took herself off to household matters, and the children were left in undisturbed possession of the stove, round which they gathered with the book, and the game commenced. Each in turn read whichever poem he preferred and the reader for the time being, was wrapt in a huge hood and cloak, kept t mask for the purpose, and was called the M rchen Frau, or Story Woman. Sometimes the song had a chorus, which all the children sang to whichever suited best of the thousand airs that are always 80 floating in German brains. Sometimes, if the 3m 8210 home depot ballad was a favourite one, the others would take part in any verses that contained a dialogue. This was generally the case with some verses in the pet ballad of Bluebeard, at that exciting point where Sister Anne is looking from the castle window. First the M rchen Frau read in a sonorous voice Schwester Aennchen, siehst du nichts Sister Anne, t mask do you see nothing Then the others replied for Anne St ubchen fliegen, Gr schen wehen. A t mask little dust flies, a little grass waves. Again the M rchen Frau Aennchen, l sst sich sonst nichts sehen Little Anne, is there nothing else to be seen And the unsatisfactory reply Schwesterchen, sonst seh ich nic.
been comical but for the sympathy its condition demanded. A very red and utterly shapeless little face lay, like a crushed beet root, in a mass of dainty laces almost voluminous enough to have dressed out a bride. As a sort of crowning satire, the face in particular was surrounded by a broad frill, spotted with bunches of pink satin ribbon, and farther encased in a white satin hood of elaborate workmanship and fringes. A very red and utterly shapeless little face lay, like a crushed beet root, in a mass of dainty laces almost voluminous enough to have dressed out a bride The contrast between the natural red of the baby s complexion and its snowy finery was ludicrously suggestive of an over dressed nigger, to begin with but when, in the paroxysms of its cough, the tiny creature s face passed by shades of plum color to a bluish black, the result was appalling to behold. Mrs. Lake s experienced ears were not slow to discover that the child had got whooping cough, which the nurse confessed was the case. She also apologized for bringing in the baby among Mrs. Lake s children, saying that she had thought of nothing but the poor little chirrub herself. Don t name it, mum, replied the windmiller s wife. I always say if children be to have things, they ll have em and if not, why they won t. A theory which seems to sum up the views of the majority of people in Mrs. Lake s class of life upon the spread of disease. I m sure I don t know what s coming to my poor head, the nurse continued I ve not so much as told you who I am, ma am. I m nurse at the Grange, ma am, with Mr. Ammaby and Lady Louisa. They ve been in town, and her ladyship s had the very best advice, and now we ve come to the country for three months, but the dear child don t seem a bit the better. And we ve been trying every thing, I m sure. For any thing I heard of I ve tried, as well as what the doctor ordered, and rubbing it with some stuff Lady Louisa s mamma insisted upon, too, even to a frog put into the dear child s mouth, and drawed back by its legs, that s supposed to be a certain cure, but only frightened it into a fit I thought it never would have come out of, as well as fetching her ladyship all the way from her boudoir to know what was the matter which I no more dared tell her than fly. Dear, dear said the miller s wife have you medical gas mask tried goose grease, mum Tis an excellent thing. Goose grease, ma am, and an excellent ointment from the bone setter s at the toll bar, which the butler paid for out of his own pocket, knowing it to have done a world of good to his sister that had a bad leg, besides being a certain cure for coughs, and cancer, and consumption as well. black disposable face mask And then the doctor s imprecation on its little chest, night and morning, besides but nothing.ged to himself the affection with which he came to regard this ugly and despicable animal. The greater part of his regard for it he believed to be due to its connection with his tutor, and the rest he set down to the score of his own humanity, and took credit to himself accordingly whereas in truth Monsieur Crapaud was of incalculable service to his master, who would lie and chatter to him for hours, and almost forget his present discomfort in recalling past happiness, as he described the chateau, the gardens, the burly tutor, and beautiful Madame, or laughed over his childish remembrances of the toad s teeth in Claude Mignon s pocket whilst Monsieur Crapaud sat well bred and silent, with a world of comprehension in his fiery eyes. Whoever thinks this puerile must remember that my hero was a Frenchman, and a young Frenchman, with a prescriptive right to chatter for chattering s sake, and also that he had not a very highly cultivated mind of his own to converse with, even if the most highly cultivated intellect is ever a 163 reliable resource against the terrors of solitary confinement. Foolish or wise, however, Monsieur the Viscount s attachment strengthened daily and one day something happened which showed his pet in a new light, and afforded him fresh amusement. The prison was much infested with certain large black spiders, which crawled about the floor and walls and, as Monsieur the Viscount was lying on his pallet, he saw one of these scramble up and over the stone on which sat Monsieur Crapaud. That good gentleman, whose eyes, how long do n95 masks work flu till then, had been fixed as usual on his master, now turned his attention to the intruder. The spider, as if conscious of danger, had suddenly stopped still. Monsieur Crapaud gazed at it intently with his beautiful eyes, and bent himself slightly forward. So they remained for some seconds, then the spider turned round, and began suddenly to scramble away. At this instant Monsieur the Viscount saw his friend s eyes gleam with an intenser fire, his head was jerked forwards it almost seemed as if something had been projected from his mouth, and drawn back again with the rapidity of lightning. Then Monsieur Crapaud resumed his position, drew in his head, and gazed mildly and sedately before him but the spider was nowhere to be seen. Monsieur the Viscount burst into a loud laugh. 164 Eh, well Monsieur, said he, but this is not well bred on your part. Who gave you leave to eat my spiders and to bolt them in such an unmannerly way, moreover. In spite of this reproof Monsieur Crapaud looked in no way ashamed of himself, and I regret to state that henceforward with the partial humaneness of mankind in general , Monsieur the Viscount amused himself by catching the insects which were only too plen.andoned ah, could it be forever upon the earth. About the commencement of the second month of the marriage, the Lady Rowena was attacked with sudden illness, from which her recovery was slow. The fever which consumed her rendered her nights uneasy and in her perturbed state of half slumber, she spoke of sounds, and of motions, in and about t mask the chamber of the turret, which I concluded had no origin save in the distemper of her fancy, or perhaps in the phantasmagoric influences of the chamber itself. She became at length convalescent finally, well. Yet but a second more violent disorder again threw her upon a bed of suffering and from this attack her frame, at all times feeble, never altogether recovered. Her illnesses were, after this epoch, of alarming character, and of more alarming recurrence, defying alike the knowledge and the great exertions of her physicians. With the increase of the chronic disease, which had thus, apparently, taken too sure hold upon her constitution to be eradicated by human means, I could not fail to observe a similar increase in the nervous irritation of her temperament, how do you put on the n95 disposable dust mask and in her excitability by trivial causes of fear. She spoke again, and justin tuck medical face mask now more frequently and pertinaciously, of the sounds of the slight sounds and of the unusual motions among the tapestries, to which she had formerly alluded. One night, near the closing in of September, she pressed this distressing subject with more than usual emphasis upon my attention. She had just awakened from an unquiet slumber, and I had been watching, with feelings half of anxiety, half of vague terror, the workings of her emaciated countenance. I sat by the side of her ebony bed, upon one of the ottomans of India. She partly arose, and spoke, flu medical face mask in an earnest low whisper, of sounds which she then heard, but which I could not hear of motions which she then saw, but which I could not perceive. The wind was rushing hurriedly behind the tapestries, and I wished to show her what, let me confess it, I could not all believe that those almost inarticulate breathings, and those very gentle variations of the figures upon the wall, were but the natural effects of that customary rushing of the wind. But a deadly pallor, overspreading her face, had proved to me that my exertions to reassure her would be fruitless. She appeared to be fainting, and no attendants were within call. I remembered where was deposited a decanter of light wine which had been ordered by her physicians, and hastened across the chamber to procure it. But, as I stepped beneath the light of the censer, two circumstances of disposable face mask proper use a startling nature attracted my attention. I had felt that some palpable although invisible object had passed lightly by my person and I saw that there lay upon the go.
T Mask he contrary, he had a great many brothers and sisters, and found them quite as objectionable as my friend Richard does. I smell a moral, murmured the said Richard. Your scent must be keen, said the story teller, for it is a long way off. Well, he had never felt them so objectionable as on one particular night, when, the house being full of company, it was decided that the boys should sleep in barracks, as they called it that is, all in one large room. Thank goodness, we have not come to that 20 said the incorrigible Richard but he was reduced to order by threats of being turned out, and contented himself with burning the soles of his boots against the bars of the grate in silence and the friend continued But this was not the worst. Not only was he, Melchior, to sleep in the same room with his brothers, but his bed being the longest and largest, his youngest brother was to sleep at the other end of it foot to foot. True, by this means he got another pillow, for, of course, that little Hop o my Thumb could do without one, and so he took his but, in spite of this, he determined that, sooner than submit to such an indignity, he would sit up all night. Accordingly, when all the rest were fast asleep, Melchior, with his boots off and his waistcoat easily unbuttoned, sat over the fire in the long lumber room which served that night as barracks. He had refused to eat any supper downstairs to mark his displeasure, and now repaid himself by a stolen meal according to his own taste. He had got a pork pie, a little bread and cheese, some large onions to roast, a couple of raw apples, an orange, and papers of soda and tartaric acid to compound effervescing draughts. When these dainties were finished, he proceeded to warm some beer in a pan, with ginger, spice, and sugar, and then lay back in his 21 chair and sipped it slowly, gazing before him, and thinking over his misfortunes. The night wore on, the fire got lower and lower, and still Melchior sat, with his eyes fixed on a dirty old print that had hung above the mantelpiece for years, sipping his brew, which was fast getting cold. The print represented an old man in a light costume, with a scythe in one hand and an hour glass in the other and underneath the picture in flourishing capitals was the word TIME. You re a nice old beggar, said Melchior, dreamily. You look like an old hay maker who has come to work in his shirt sleeves, and forgotten the rest of his clothes. Time time you went to the tailor s, I think. This was very irreverent but Melchior was not in a respectful mood and as for the old man, he was as calm as any philosopher. The night wore on, and the fire got lower and lower, and at last went out altogether. How stupid of me not to have mended it said Melchior but.has been fortunate, and if not so rich a man as his father, has yet regained enough of his property to live with comfort, and, as he thinks, luxury. The long rooms are little less elegant than in former days, and Madame the present Viscountess s boudoir is a model t mask of taste. Not far from it is another room, to which it forms a singular contrast. This room belongs to Monsieur the Viscount. It is small, with one window. The floor and walls are bare, and it contains no furniture but on the floor is a worn out pallet, by which lies a stone, and on that a broken pitcher, and in a little frame against the wall is preserved a crumpled bit of paper like the fly leaf of some little book, on which is a half effaced inscription, which mouth air mask can be 185 deciphered by Monsieur the Viscount if by no one else. Above the window is written in large letters, a date and the word REMEMBER. Monsieur the Viscount is not likely to forget, but he is afraid of himself and of prosperity lest it should spoil him. It is evening, and Monsieur the Viscount is strolling along the terrace with Madame on his arm. He has only one to offer her, for where the other should be an empty sleeve is pinned to his breast, on which a bit of ribbon is stirred by the breeze. Monsieur the Viscount has not been idle since we saw him last the faith that taught him to die, has taught him also how to live an honourable, useful life. It is evening, and the air comes up perfumed from a bed of violets by which Monsieur the Viscount is kneeling. Madame who has a fair face and ashen hair stands by him with her little hand on his shoulder, and her large eyes upon the violets. My friend my friend my friend It is Monsieur the Viscount s voice, and at the sound of it, there is a rustle among the violets that sends the perfume high into the air. Then from the parted leaves come forth first a dirty wrinkled leg, then a dirty wrinkled head with gleaming eyes, and Monsieur Crapaud crawls with self satisfied dignity on to Monsieur the Viscount s outstretched hand. So they stay laughing and chatting, and then 186 Monsieur the Viscount bids his friend good night, and holds him towards Madame that she may do the same. But Madame who did not enjoy Monsieur Crapaud s society in prison cannot be induced to do more than scratch his head delicately with the tip of her white finger. But she respects him greatly, at a distance, she says. Then they go back along the terrace, and are met by a man servant in Monsieur the Viscount s livery. Is it possible that this is Antoine, with his shock head covered with powder Yes that grating voice, which no mental change avails to subdue, is his, and he announces that Monsieur le Cur has arrived. It is the old Cur of the village who has t mask survived the troubles.