. Down the eastern and up the Black . dead ? he asked, then addedwith solemnity, God rest his soul, I miss him. 41 ] His name was— Arnold, he replied, a godly man who knew his peopleeverywhere he met them. And this was Arnolds church, said I. I knew him—knew him well. A man of quiet tastes was Francis Arnold, aclergyman devout and scholarly, who fed his soul upon theancient prophecies and loved a Greek root better than a juicysteak. Yes, I knew Arnold, and have heard him speak of Bar-ney Unangst. I trust the world deals kindly with you now thathe is gone ? Barney dropped his head
. Down the eastern and up the Black . dead ? he asked, then addedwith solemnity, God rest his soul, I miss him. 41 ] His name was— Arnold, he replied, a godly man who knew his peopleeverywhere he met them. And this was Arnolds church, said I. I knew him—knew him well. A man of quiet tastes was Francis Arnold, aclergyman devout and scholarly, who fed his soul upon theancient prophecies and loved a Greek root better than a juicysteak. Yes, I knew Arnold, and have heard him speak of Bar-ney Unangst. I trust the world deals kindly with you now thathe is gone ? Barney dropped his head and for a moment gave no answer,then, slowly raising it, replied : Alas! Alas ! I have worked toohard, and have worked too long. There was pathos in hisanswer, there was pathos in his voice, such pathos that I ceasedmy conversation and turned again toward Cupola. Poor Barney !Toil had indeed shriveled him, his clothes hung loosely over hisshrunken limbs, and his palsied arm accentuated the melancholytruth, worked too hard and worked too [42 62 OH O w wo m ?13 OQ
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