Monday, December 3, 2007

oil painting art work

But Maud said, 'Tut! tut!' in gentle reproval, and then asked why I was a blithering idiot. ¡¡¡¡'No matches!' I groaned. 'Not a match did I bring! And now we shall have no hot coffee, soup, tea, nor anything.' ¡¡¡¡'Wasn't it er- Crusoe who rubbed sticks together?' she drawled. ¡¡¡¡'But I have read the personal narratives of a score of shipwrecked men who tried, and tried in vain,' I answered. 'I remember Winters, a newspaper fellow with an Alaskan and Siberian reputation. Met him at the Bibelot once, and he was telling us how he attempted to make a fire with a couple of sticks. It was most amusing. He told it inimitably, but it was the story of a failure. I remember his conclusion, his black eyes flashing as he said: "Gentlemen, the South Sea Islander may do it, the Malay may do it, but, take my word, it's beyond the white man."' ¡¡¡¡'Oh,
ell, we've managed so far without it,' she said cheerfully; 'and there's no reason why we cannot still manage without it.' ¡¡¡¡'But think of the coffee!' I cried. 'It's good coffee, too. I know; I took it from Larsen's private stores. And look at that good wood.' ¡¡¡¡I confess that I wanted the coffee badly, and I learned not long afterward that the berry was likewise a little weakness of Maud's. Besides, we had been so long on

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

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