Memoirs of a Midget
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Book Description
General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1922 Original Publisher: A.A. Knopf Subjects: Young women Difference (Psychology) Circus performers Short people Dwarfs Fiction / Classics Fiction / Historical Fiction / Literary Fiction / Psychological Fiction / Coming of Age Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illust...
MoreGeneral Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1922 Original Publisher: A.A. Knopf Subjects: Young women Difference (Psychology) Circus performers Short people Dwarfs Fiction / Classics Fiction / Historical Fiction / Literary Fiction / Psychological Fiction / Coming of Age Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com where you can select from more than a million books for free. Excerpt: Chapter Thirty-Two I Nd Then -- well, life plays strange tricks. In a week or two London had swallowed me up. How many times, I wonder, had I tried in fancy to picture Mrs Monnerie's town house. How romantic an edifice fancy had made of it. Impressive in its own fashion, it fell far short of these ignorant dreams. It was No. 2 of about forty, set side by side, their pillared porticoes fronting a prodigious square. Its only "garden," chiefly the resort of cats, children, nursemaids, an old whiskered gentleman in a bath chair, and sparrows, was visible to every passer-by through a spearheaded palisade of railings. Broad paving-stones skirted its areas, and over each descent of steps hung a bell-pull. On cloudless days the sun filled this square like a tank with a dry glare and heat in which even my salamanderish body sometimes gasped like a fish out of water. When rain fell out of the low, grey skies, and the scaling plane-trees hissed and the sparrows chirped, my spirits seemed to sink into my shoes. And fair or foul, London soot and dust were enemies alike to my eyes, my fingers, and my nose. Even my beloved cloud-burdened north-west wind was never quite free of smuts and grit; and when blew the east! But it must be remembered how ignorant and local I was. In my long carriage journey to Mrs Monnerie's through those miles and miles of grimed, huddling houses, those shops...
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