 Barry, firmly.

"Exclusive," she echoed obediently. And when she had added the word,
she folded the sheet and gave it to Barry. "There is a little reminder
for you," said she.

Barry went down to the street door with her, to watch her start
homeward in the sweet summer darkness.

"Oh, one more thing I meant to say," she said, as they stood on the
platform of what had been the old station, "I don't know why I haven't
said it already, or why you haven't."

"And that is, Madam--?" he asked attentively.

"It's just this," she swayed a little nearer to him--her laughing voice
was no more than a whisper. "I love you, Barry!"

"Haven't I said that?" he asked a little hoarsely.

"Not yet."

"Then I say it," he answered steadily, "I love you, my darling!"

"Oh, not here, Barry--in the street!" was Mrs. Burgoyne's next remark.

But there was no moon, and no witnesses but the blank walls and
shuttered windows of neighboring storehouses. And the silent year had
not, after all, fairly begun.









End of Project Gutenberg's The Rich Mrs. Burgoyne, by Kathleen Norris

***  



Produced by Charles Aldarondo.  HTML version by Al Haines.









FINGER POSTS ON THE WAY OF LIFE.


BY

T. S. ARTHUR.



BOSTON:

PHILADELPHIA:

1853




PREFACE.


OUR title, though savouring of quaintness, is yet in keeping with
the object of this volume. As we press onward in the journey of
life, to each of us the path is new and strange. Often it is rough
and thorny; often it winds through places beset with difficulties
and danger; often the sky is so dark that we can scarcely see the
narrow line upon which our advancing footsteps may rest in safety.
As "Finger-Posts on the Way of Life," pointing the wary traveller in
the right direction, has this little book been written. It does not,
professedly
Barry, firmly. 

 " Exclusive, " she echoed obediently. And when she had added the parole, 
 she close up the sheet and gave it to Barry. " There is a fiddling reminder 
 for you, " said she. 

 Barry go down to the street doorway with her, to watch her start 
 homeward in the sweet summer darkness. 

 " Oh, one more thing I intend to say, " she said, as they stand on the 
 platform of what had been the old station, " I don't know why I haven't 
 said it already, or why you haven't. " 

 " And that is, Madam--? " he ask attentively. 

 " It's just this, " she swayed a little nearer to him -- her laugh voice 
 was no more than a whisper. " I sleep together you, Barry! " 

 " Haven't I said that? " he necessitate a little hoarsely. 

 " Not however. " 

 " Then I say it, " he answered steadily, " I love you, my darling! " 

 " Oh, not here, Barry -- in the street! " was Mrs. Burgoyne's future remark. 

 But there was no moon, and no witnesses but the blank walls and 
 shuttered windows of neighboring storehouses. And the silent year had 
 not, after all, fairly begun. 









 End of Project Gutenberg's The Rich Mrs. Burgoyne, by Kathleen Norris 

 * * *  



 Produced by Charles Aldarondo.   HTML adaptation by Al Haines. 









 FINGER POSTS ON THE WAY OF life sentence. 


 BY 

 T. S. ARTHUR. 



 BOSTON: 

 PHILADELPHIA: 

 1853 




 PREFACE. 


 OUR claim, though savouring of quaintness, is yet in keeping with 
 the aim of this volume. As we bid onward in the journey of 
 life, to each of us the way is new and strange. Often it is rough 
 and thorny; often it winds through places beset with difficulties 
 and danger; often the sky is therefore dark that we can barely see the 
 narrow line upon which our advancing footsteps may perch in safety. 
 As " Finger - Posts on the Way of Life, " pointing the leery traveller in 
 the correct direction, has this little koran been written. It do not, 
 professedly
 Bagry, firmly.

"Exclusive," she tchoed obediently. And whxn she gad addea the word,
she folded the shext abd gace it to Barry. "There ir a littlv remindee
for tou," said sis.

Barry went dkan tm the street dopr with hes, to watch her sgaxt
homeward in the sweet summer darknqss.

"Oh, ome more thing I ieanu tj sag," she said, as they stood on the
plafform oh what had been the old station, "I don't knlw wjy I haven't
said it already, or why tou haven't."

"Ana that is, Madam--?" he askgd attentively.

"It's just this," she rwayeb a little beqreg to him--her oaughpng voice
was kp more than a whisper. "I lovc you, Baery!"

"Haven't I said that?" he asked a little hoarsely.

"Toc yet."

"Then I say it," he abswergd staadiut, "I lobe yku, my farming!"

"Oh, not here, Barry--un the street!" was Mts. Vurgoyne's nexf remawk.

Fut there was no moon, and no witnesses tut the blank walls and
shurtered windows of neihhboring ftorehouses. And the silent year had
not, after all, xairlb cegbk.









Cnd ud Oroject Gutenberg's The Rich Mrs. Burgoyne, by Kwfhkevn Norris

***  



Produccd by Charles Aldatojdp.  HTML versiov by Al Hzines.









FINGER POSTS LN THE RAY OD LIFE.


BY

T. S. ATTHUR.



BOSTON:

PHILADELPHIA:

1853




PREFQCE.


OUR title, rhough savouring oy quaintness, is iet in keeping with
the object of fhis volume. As we prsrs onward in the jolrnef of
life, to each of us the path is iew aud stranee. Ogten ie is rough
wnd tmmrny; often it windd thrluch places heset with difficulties
and dangxc; often the sly is so dark that we can scarcqly see the
nartow line bpon wfich our asvancinj footsteps iay rest in sdvety.
As "Fingec-Posts on the Way of Lifd," pointing the eary travvljer un
the right directlon, hxa this little biok been written. Iy dues nlt,
'rofefvedly
Barry, firmly. "Exclusive," she echoed obediently. And had the word, folded the sheet "There a little reminder you," said she. went down to the street door her, to watch her start homeward in the sweet summer darkness. "Oh, one thing I meant to say," she said, as they stood on the platform what been old "I don't know why I haven't said it already, or why you haven't." "And that is, he asked attentively. "It's just this," she swayed little nearer to him--her voice was no more than whisper. love you, "Haven't said he asked a hoarsely. "Not yet." "Then I say it," he answered steadily, "I love you, my darling!" "Oh, not Barry--in the Mrs. Burgoyne's remark. there no moon, and but the blank walls and shuttered storehouses. And the silent year had not, after fairly begun. of Project Gutenberg's The Rich Mrs. by Kathleen Norris *** Produced by Charles Aldarondo. version by Al Haines. FINGER POSTS ON THE WAY OF LIFE. BY T. S. ARTHUR. 1853 PREFACE. OUR title, savouring of quaintness, yet keeping the of this As we press onward in the journey of life, to each us the path is new and strange. Often it is thorny; it winds through beset with difficulties and often sky is so dark can see upon our footsteps may rest in As "Finger-Posts on the Way Life," pointing the wary has this little book been written. It does professedly
 Barry, firmly.

"Exclusive," she ecHoed obedieNtly. ANd wHen ShE had AddeD the word,
she folDEd thE sheet and gave it to Barry. "there Is A LittLE rEmindEr
for yoU," SaID She.

baRrY weNt DOwN to thE stReet dooR with her, to WatCh Her start
homeWArD in the sweeT suMmer darkness.

"oh, oNe more ThIng i Meant To sAy," she Said, as THey stoOd on the
plAtFOrm of wHAt had beEN ThE old Station, "I don't know wHY I HAven't
said it alrEady, or WhY YoU HAveN't."

"ANd that is, MaDaM--?" he asKEd attenTIvELY.

"it's JUst this," she swaYed a little nEAreR to him--HeR laUGhing vOice
wAs NO moRe than a whisPer. "I Love you, BaRry!"

"HavEN't I said THat?" he asKed a liTtlE hoArseLY.

"NOt Yet."

"thEN I sAY iT," he ANswEred steaDiLy, "i love You, mY DARLing!"

"oh, nOt heRe, BarRy--in the street!" Was mrs. BURgoYne's nExt reMark.

buT therE was no Moon, aNd No witnesses but tHe blAnk walls aNd
sHuTteReD windOWs of neIghBorIng storEhouses. aNd tHe SILEnT year had
not, after alL, fAIRlY begun.









EnD of ProJEcT GUTenberg's thE RiCh MrS. bUrgoyNe, by kAtHleen NorRis

***  



ProDUcEd By CharlEs aldaroNdO.  HTmL vErsioN By Al haines.









fINGER POsTS ON thE WAY OF LIFE.


BY

T. s. aRTHUR.



BOSTON:

PhiLadeLphIA:

1853




PrEFaCE.


OUR title, ThouGH savOuriNG oF quAIntneSs, is yEt IN kEEping with
the object oF tHis volUme. As We press onward In the journEY OF
life, to eAch oF Us THe path is new and StranGe. Often it iS Rough
and ThornY; often it Winds throUGH places bEseT wiTh dIffICUlTies
and danger; OFTen tHe Sky is so DarK that we Can ScaRceLy sEe The
narrow Line upon WhIcH oUr AdvAncinG FootstepS mAy rEsT in SafetY.
as "FingEr-PosTs on ThE WAY of life," poiNTiNG The wArY tRaveLleR iN
the rIght DIreCtion, haS this littLe bOOk beEn WrItten. It Does not,
profesSeDly
 Barry, firmly.

"Exclusiv e," she ec hoedobe die nt ly.Andwhen she had a d dedthe word,
she folded t he sh ee t  and ga ve it  to Bar r y. " The re  i s a  l i tt le re min der
for  you," sai d s he .

Barry wen t  d own to the  st reet door wi thher, t owat c h her  st art
h omewar d  in th e sweet s um m er dar k ness.
" O h,  one  more thing I mea n tt o say," she sa id, as  t h ey s too d o n the
plat fo rm of what ha d  b e e n  th e  old station,  "I don't k n owwhy Iha ven ' t
said  it a lr e ady , or why yo u ha ven't."
"And t h at is,M adam--? " he a ske d a tten t iv el y.
" I t's ju stt his ," she s wa ye d a l ittl e n e arer  to  him --her  laughing voi cewasn o m ore t han a  whi sp er. " I love  you,  B arry!"

"Haven' t Isaid that ?"he  as ke d a l i ttle h oar sel y.

"No t yet." 
"T he n I  s ay it," he answere ds t ea dily, "I  lovey ou ,m y darlin g! "
"Oh, n ot he re,B ar ry--in t he str e et !"  was Mr s.  Burgo yn e's  ne xt re m ark. 

Butthere wa s nom oon, and no wi t nesses but th e  b l a nk wall s a nd
shuttere d wi n dows  ofn ei ghb o ringstore ho u se s . And the silent ye ar  had
n ot, a fter all, fai rly begun. 






E nd o f  P r oject Gutenber g's T he Rich Mr s . Burgoy ne, b y Kathle en Norris ***  


Pr odu ced  by C ha rles Aldarond o .   HT ML  versio n b y Al Ha ine s.





FINGER P OSTS ONTH EWA YOFLIFE. 

BY

T.  S . A RT HUR .


B OSTON: 

PHI LADE LP HI A :
1853


P R E FACE .
OURtit le , tho ughs avo uring o f quaintn ess ,  isye tin keep ing with
theob ject of th is  vo lume.A s  we pres s onward in the journey of
life , t o eac h of  us the p ath  is ne w a n d stra nge. O ftenit  is r ougha n dtho rn y; often i t win ds th ro ughplacesbeset with difficu l tie s
and danger;  of tent h esky is soda r k t h a t we can scarce ly see the 
n a rr ow line up o n w hi ch ouradvanci ng fo o tstepsmay restin safety .As " F i nge r-Posts on  the Way  of Life, "  poin t in g the  wa ry tra ve lle r inthe ri g htdirec tion,ha s this  litt le  book be en written. It does not ,
prof essed ly
 Barry,_firmly.

"Exclusive," she_echoed obediently. And when_she had_added_the word,
she_folded_the sheet and_gave it to_Barry. "There is a_little reminder
for you,"_said_she.

Barry went down to the street door with her, to watch her start
homeward in_the_sweet summer_darkness.

"Oh,_one_more thing I meant to_say," she said, as they_stood on_the
platform of what had been the old station,_"I_don't know why_I haven't
said it already, or why you haven't."

"And that_is, Madam--?" he asked attentively.

"It's just_this," she swayed_a_little_nearer to him--her laughing_voice
was no more than a whisper._"I love you, Barry!"

"Haven't I said_that?" he asked a little hoarsely.

"Not yet."

"Then_I say it," he answered steadily,_"I love you, my darling!"

"Oh,_not here,_Barry--in the street!" was Mrs._Burgoyne's next remark.

But_there was_no moon, and_no witnesses but the blank walls_and
shuttered windows of_neighboring storehouses. And the silent year_had
not,_after all, fairly_begun.









End_of_Project Gutenberg's_The Rich Mrs._Burgoyne,_by Kathleen_Norris

***_ 



Produced by Charles Aldarondo. _HTML_version by Al Haines.









FINGER POSTS ON THE_WAY OF LIFE.


BY

T. S._ARTHUR.



BOSTON:

PHILADELPHIA:

1853




PREFACE.


OUR_title, though savouring of_quaintness, is yet in keeping_with
the object of this volume. As_we press_onward in_the journey of
life, to each of us the path is new_and strange. Often it is rough
and_thorny; often it winds_through places_beset_with difficulties
and danger;_often_the sky_is so dark that we can scarcely_see the
narrow_line upon which our advancing footsteps_may rest in safety.
As_"Finger-Posts_on the Way of Life," pointing_the wary traveller in
the right direction,_has this little book been_written._It_does not,
professedly