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Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 1811-1896

"Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands, Volume 2"

This was conducive to a frame of
mind that scarcely needs remark. Out of that depot (it was half past
four, and at six they dine in Paris) with augmented zeal and decision
I pitched into a cab.
"_A l'autre station, vite, vite!_"--To the other station, quick,
quick! He mounted the box, and commenced lashing his Rosinante, who
was a subject for crows to mourn over, (because they could hope for
nothing in trying to pick him,) and in an ambling, scrambling pace,
composed of a trot, a canter, and a kick, we made a descent like an
avalanche into the station yard. There Richard was himself again. I
assumed at once the air of a gentleman who had seen the review, and
walked about with composure and dignity. No doubt I had seen the
emperor and all the troops. I succeeded in getting home just in the
middle of dinner, and by dint of hard eating caught up at the third
course with the rest.
That I consider a very white day. Some might call it _green_, but
I mark such days with white always.
In the evening we attended the _salon_ of Lady Elgin, a friend of
our hostess. Found there the Marquis de M., whose book on the
spiritual rappings comes out next week.


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