Pulp Fiction, 1867 · page 95 of 100
Beadle's Dime Novels No. 127: Bald Eagle — page 95: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1867. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
TWO MEEK ONES. 97 “Can we not be friends, Miss De Witt 2” “We always quarreled—we quarrel to this day.” This, lifting her brows with a demure, yet saucy smile. “T am not quarrelsome—I am one of the meekest of men living.’ This with real irritation; whereat Katrina gave one of her low, merry laughs, which is so delicious to hear, and replied, “JT, too, Colonel Montagnie, am a perfect Griselda, the meek- est of the meek.” Had any one been able to look into the chamber of Katrina that night, they would have seen her weeping profusely, and yet not with a look of suffering; her veins tingled and her cheek flushed, and exclamations escaped her lips more than once declaring herself to be the “ very worst, most perverse and ill-behaving girl that ever lived; there is something right down cruel and bad about me, for I enjoy this tormenting of poor Wendell,” and then she colored all over at the name. “T can understand how boys like to fight a hornets’ nest, and how they think it fun to turn a toad on his back, and hold a turtle just out of the water. Blanche says it is dreadful, and so it is. Ze” lover wouldn’t stand it, but mine must, or he’s no lover of mine.” At this she gave her curls a most emphatic pull, and seated herself at the toilet glass to take, as women will, a sort of in- ventory of their charms before going to bed. She had an in- different share of vanity, as engaging women must have, but she was, withal, a conscientious, right-intending girl, and when she had sufficiently composed herself, she knelt down to her nightly prayer, and soon was asleep. / CHAPTER XIX. IT IS DONE. Our little drama is drawing to aclose. The subsequent year saw the nationality of our Republic acknowledged by Great Britain, and here at New York, where Washington had so often made his head-quarters, was the wasted army of patriots disbanded. . 0 comiclbooks.coOnn