This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book. ++++ The below data was compiled from various identification fields in the bibliographic record of this title. This data is provided as an additional tool in helping to ensure edition identification: ++++ Nemesis: Or, The Avenger, By Marion Harland; Volume 66 Of Run And Read Libr Mary Virginia Terhune

This is an EXACT reproduction of a book published before 1923. This IS NOT an OCR'd book with strange characters, introduced typographical errors, and jumbled words. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book.

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: THE ARTICLES OF SEPARATION. BEFORE and since the day when a certain man ?idling while Israel and Syria warred?drew a bow at a venture (the margin has it, " in his simplicity,") that let a king's life out, the air has vibrated to the twang of other bowstrings, and millions of barbs, as idly sent, have been dyed with life-blood. In every 50,000 cases of this sort of manslaughter, 49,999 fall by the tongue. The Hon. Simeon Barton, radiating prosperity from every pore of his snug person, and clothed with complacency as with a garment, rolled about the soon-to-be-vacated bachelor quarters of his nephew-namesake, thumbs in armholes, and chin in. air, while he discoursed: " You're a pluckier fellow than your uncle, me boy Of course, it is on the cards that your head may be level. There are literary women and literary women, no doubt, and this must be a favorable specimen of the tribe, or you wouldn't have been in your present fix, but none of thelot in mine, if you please. When my turn comes ?and I aint sure that I shan't look out for a match some day, when I am too stiff to trot well in single harness, I shall hold the reins. No inside seat for me." The nephew laughed in a hearty, whole-souled way. He was not touched yet. " You mix your figures as you do your cobblers?after you get hold of the sherry bottle? with a swing. Wait until you see my ' match.' She is a glorious woman, Uncle Sim. The wonder is that she ever got her eyes down to my level." The forty-year-old celibate continued to roll and harangue. His dress coat was new and a close fit to his rotund dapperness; with one lavender glove he smote the palm of his gloved left hand; the rose in his buttonhole was paler than the hard red spots on cheeks like underglazed potteiy for smoothness and polish, his mus...

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: THE ARTICLES OF SEPARATION. BEFORE and since the day when a certain man ?idling while Israel and Syria warred?drew a bow at a venture (the margin has it, " in his simplicity,") that let a king's life out, the air has vibrated to the twang of other bowstrings, and millions of barbs, as idly sent, have been dyed with life-blood. In every 50,000 cases of this sort of manslaughter, 49,999 fall by the tongue. The Hon. Simeon Barton, radiating prosperity from every pore of his snug person, and clothed with complacency as with a garment, rolled about the soon-to-be-vacated bachelor quarters of his nephew-namesake, thumbs in armholes, and chin in. air, while he discoursed: " You're a pluckier fellow than your uncle, me boy Of course, it is on the cards that your head may be level. There are literary women and literary women, no doubt, and this must be a favorable specimen of the tribe, or you wouldn't have been in your present fix, but none of thelot in mine, if you please. When my turn comes ?and I aint sure that I shan't look out for a match some day, when I am too stiff to trot well in single harness, I shall hold the reins. No inside seat for me." The nephew laughed in a hearty, whole-souled way. He was not touched yet. " You mix your figures as you do your cobblers?after you get hold of the sherry bottle? with a swing. Wait until you see my ' match.' She is a glorious woman, Uncle Sim. The wonder is that she ever got her eyes down to my level." The forty-year-old celibate continued to roll and harangue. His dress coat was new and a close fit to his rotund dapperness; with one lavender glove he smote the palm of his gloved left hand; the rose in his buttonhole was paler than the hard red spots on cheeks like underglazed potteiy for smoothness and polish, his mus...

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