The Kidnapped Millionaires: A Tale of Wall Street and the Tropics

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Lothrop, 1901 - American fiction - 504 pages
A financial thriller on the Mexican coast, south of Vera Cruz.
 

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Page 66 - Deep-plowed like weather-eaten bark of oak — Drawn faces like the faces of the dead, Grown suddenly old upon the brink of Earth. Is this a whirl of madmen ravening, And blowing bubbles in their merriment? Is Babel come again with shrieking crew To eat the dust and drink the roaring wind? And all for what? A handful of bright sand To buy a shroud with and a length of earth? Oh, saner are the hearts on stiller ways ! Thrice happier they who, far from these wild hours.
Page 331 - ... neath her lava bed, Till chance unveiled the ' City of the Dead.' Palenque! seat of kings! as o'er the plain. Clothed with thick copse, the traveller toils with pain. Climbs the rude mound the shadowy scene to trace. He views in mute surprise thy desert grace. At every step some palace meets his eye, Some figure frowns, some temple courts the sky: It seems as if that hour the verdurous earth. By genii struck, had given these fabrics birth. Save that old Time hath flung his darkening pall On each...
Page 183 - He accompanied the following stave with a dexterous clog-step on the floor of the cab: There was an old nigger, and he had a wooden leg. He had no tobacco, no tobacco could he beg. Another old nigger was as cunning as a fox, And he always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box. 'Now for the chorus! 'Yes, he always had tobacco in his old tobacco-box. 'But you're not singing. I thought you would be making the welkin ring.
Page 66 - ... plowman with his scudding blade, Turning a straight fresh furrow down a field — Wiser the herdsman whistling to his heart, In the long shadows at the break of day — Wiser the fisherman with quiet hand, Slanting his sail against the evening wind. The swallow sweeps back from the south again, The green of May is edging all the boughs, The shy arbutus glimmers in the wood, And yet this hell of faces in the town — This storm of tongues, this whirlpool roaring on, Surrounded by the quiets of...

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