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Miles is a teenage boy who is the main character of this story. Miles is from Florida, where he was raised and has attended high school. He decided to go to a boarding school in Alabama : Culver Creek. Miles is the most important character in terms of developing the story, since he is not only the narrator, but the reader knows every single one of his thoughts and can understand every single one of his motives, actions and words. Miles, in Florida, was definitely not the popular type, or social in any way. He is not fond of social interactions, especially small talk. Miles would rather be reading biographies than socializing with others. Miles has a fascination with last words. His hobby is reading biographies, only to find out what the person’s last words were. Miles explains his love for last words by saying “But a lot of times, people die how they live. And so last words tell me a lot about who people were, and why they became the sort of people biographies get written about.” (Green 128). Miles is extremely scrawny and lacks muscle, and was exactly six feet tall. He’s not only scrawny, but he is also lanky. Not much is mentioned about Miles’ physical appearance, simply because his societal and psychological appearances are much more significative to who he truly is. Miles is not a very judgmental person. When he first meets Alaska, and she is telling the Colonel a story about a summer experience, Miles is captivated by her right away. Miles is a somewhat vulnerable character who often finds himself in hard situations because he is very confused and very insecure about himself. This is why he falls so easily for Alaska after she gives him the slightest bit of attention, because he is insecure and shy, and was not used to this type of attention back when he was in Florida. Miles is a very intellectual person who can analyze every situation and every single detail in order to truly understand it and the reasoning behind it. The Colonel and him get along very well, because the Colonel is a leader and is always sure of what he wants, which is the exact opposite of Miles. This goes to show that opposites attract, and they end up being extremely good friends. Miles is a follower, and not a leader. He is smart in his words but does not excel with his actions.
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The experiences of individuals in a developmental life stage called adolescence are presented in this paper. The descriptions here of Filipino adolescent experiences are rooted in Philippine culture such as pagbabarkada (friendship formation) and panliligaw (romantic relationship). The presentation of themes is based on metaphors that illustrate indigenous thoughts on how individuals experience adolescence or paglalabintaunin in a given cultural context. Some of the ideas discussed in this paper about the Filipino adolescent pertain to personality and social development factors such as sexual and socio-emotional relationships. Evidences are derived from the researches conducted by some psychology students for their theses in order to complete the requirements for a baccalaureate degree in arts, major in psychology at De La Salle University. The selected studies are those written in Filipino and are about the experiences of Filipino teenagers, which attracted the interests of student-researchers.
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Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the thoughts (PLANS) that I think toward you, says the LORD, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope."
Psalm 16:11 "You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand."
God’s Plan for each of our lives is perfect, All we have to do is study and live by His Word and He will guide us.
1. WHAT IS GOD’S PLAN FOR MY LIFE?
His Plan is for us to find Success in life personally and for the Kingdom of God. This includes whom we should marry, our careers, finances, health, relationships, which Church we should attend and minister, where we should live, and all aspects of our lives.
2. HOW DO I DISCOVER HIS PLAN FOR MY LIFE?
Study God’s Word, pray, Focus on our lives on Jesus, seek His perfect Will for our lives, and live a Christ-Like life. Ask ourselves, “What does Jesus want me to do?”
Speak with our Pastor for guidance, go to Bible Studies, and stay involved in Church.
3. WALKING DAILY IN GOD’S PLAN FOR OUR LIVES…
As we study God’s Word, listen to Bible Teaching, we apply His Word to our decisions, live Positive Christian lives, listen to the voice of the Holy Spirit who lives inside us, stay away from temptations, and look for ways we can serve the Lord and share His Word.
SINGLES…Jesus will bring the one He has chosen into your life at the perfect time in His plan for you, be patient, God has already chosen a Man for every Woman and a Woman for every Man, He is working at all times. He will help you in all decisions of life and show you the path to walk.
MARRIEDS…Love your Spouse as Christ loves His Church, keep them second after Jesus, share all decision making, communicate through the issues of life and resolve them, and always keep Jesus first in your personal life.
God’s Plan is perfect for each of us, all we have to do is live by His Word and follow His Plan!
God Bless YOU! Pastor Roger McCarthy
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Good morning students, school board members,
superintendent and district staff.
First, I would like to thank all of you, from teachers to
friends and family, for being in attendance this morning. You
have all had a profound impact on the development of the
students that will be graduating today, and I feel it is safe to say
that I speak on behalf of the whole graduating Class of 2010, in
thanking you for all of your efforts that you have invested in us
to this day.
When I first sat down to write this speech, tons of thoughts
were flowing through my mind. Am I going to reminisce about
memories of great importance to me? How about speaking of
significant events for the entire school? What is the message I
should try to convey? Will I pass out or just be at a loss for
words, because to be honest, I did not think I had it in me to do
this. But the most important goal I strove for was to create a
speech that was truly different. Thank you and Good Morning
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Education is one of the great joys and solaces of life. It gives us a framework for understanding the world around us and a way to reach across time and space to touch the thoughts and feelings of others.
Ang edukasyon ay isa sa mga susi sa labis na kagalakan at kaginhawaan ng buhay. Ito ang nagbibigay sa atin ng balangkas upang maunawan ang mundo at isang paraan para makita ang kabuuan ng oras at espasyo upang malaman ang mga saloobin at damdamin ng iba.
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Good morning students, school board members, superintendent and district staff. First, I would like to thank all of you, from teachers to friends and family, for being in attendance this morning. You have all had a profound impact on the development of the students that will be graduating today, and I feel it is safe to say that I speak on behalf of the whole graduating Class of 2015, in thanking you for all of your efforts that you have invested in us to this day. When I first sat down to write this speech, tons of thoughts were flowing through my mind. Am I going to reminisce about memories of great importance to me? How about speaking of significant events for the entire school? What is the message I should try to convey? Will I pass out or just be at a loss for words, because to be honest, I did not think I had it in me to do this. But the most important goal I strove for was to create a speech that was truly different. Not that bored people to sleep or followed the traditional “your journey ends here, but a new one begins” format, but instead offered excitement and new insight into this monumental day. However, it is more so about your accomplishments and the best way for me to craft inspiration and motivation in you all. Today is no small feat. It perhaps is the most significant and life altering achievement most of you can claim to this day. Never hesitate to recognize how proud each and every person here today is for you to complete such a long and difficult task. Having worked for over thirteen years just for this moment, it is hard to ignore the determination, perseverance, patience, hardwork and even sacrifice that embodies itself the attitudes of every graduate. The innumerable amount of opportunities your diploma enables you to attain is without doubt, and I encourage all of you to pursue what is most dear to you. Pursue that in which you feel you can make a difference. Looking at you, the Class of 2015, I realize that after today, I may no longer see many of you. That is a painful thought. On the other hand, I am also filled with anticipation, because I have no doubt in my mind that every single one of you sitting before me has the potential to succeed and make a difference in life. Of course, not every one of us can be rich, famous, and powerful, but often times it is the people who just offer words of advice and encouragement that make the world a better place. It is human nature to reflect the mood of others in your own actions, so positive words and actions could have an overwhelming impact on the moods and quality of life of others. The future looks bright. Throughout my years in high school, not only have I gained knowledge of the subjects I have studied, but I have learned many other lessons as well. At times I know some of you questioned the need to attend class, but gaining intelligence is not the only purpose of it. School has helped to build priceless social skills, as well as, instilled a value to succeed. I don’t know about you, but when I see others performing well, I take it as a challenge to try my best as well. Having the correct mindset makes all of the difference. If you believe you can achieve anything, and don’t allow others to tell you differently, what you are capable of achieving is genuinely amazing. I would like to conclude my speech with a quote from Robert Frost. “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” I encourage you, the Class of 2015, to not only follow the opportunities available to you, but to follow your heart and pursue a cause of particular importance to you. Instead of following the path of past generations and graduating classes, I challenge you all to make your own path. The risks are always present, but the battle always makes the win so much sweeter. For me, it is neither about the money nor the notoriety of a position, but instead whether I can make a difference and love what I do. Thanks again to all the families, friends, teachers, and any others I have missed, for your contributions. They are greatly appreciated. Congratulations again, Class of 2010, and I wish you all the best of luck. I know you’ll do your best. I’ll miss you all. Thank you!
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May Day Eve
By Nick Joaquin
The old people had ordered that the dancing should stop at ten o’clock but it was almost midnight before the carriages came filing up the departing guests, while the girls who were staying were promptly herded upstairs to the bedrooms, the young men gathering around to wish them a good night and lamenting their ascent with mock signs and moaning, proclaiming themselves disconsolate but straightway going off to finish the punch and the brandy though they were quite drunk already and simply bursting with wild spirits, merriment, arrogance and audacity, for they were young bucks newly arrived from Europe; the ball had been in their honor; and they had waltzed and polka-ed and bragged and swaggered and flirted all night and where in no mood to sleep yet--no, caramba, not on this moist tropic eve! not on this mystic May eve! --with the night still young and so seductive that it was madness not to go out, not to go forth---and serenade the neighbors! cried one; and swim in the Pasid! cried another; and gather fireflies! cried a third—whereupon there arose a great clamor for coats and capes, for hats and canes, and they were a couple of street-lamps flickered and a last carriage rattled away upon the cobbles while the blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their tile roofs looming like sinister chessboards against a wile sky murky with clouds, save where an evil young moon prowled about in a corner or where a murderous wind whirled, whistling and whining, smelling now of the sea and now of the summer orchards and wafting unbearable childhood fragrances or ripe guavas to the young men trooping so uproariously down the street that the girls who were desiring upstairs in the bedrooms catered screaming to the windows, crowded giggling at the windows, but were soon sighing amorously over those young men bawling below; over those wicked young men and their handsome apparel, their proud flashing eyes, and their elegant mustaches so black and vivid in the moonlight that the girls were quite ravished with love, and began crying to one another how carefree were men but how awful to be a girl and what a horrid, horrid world it was, till old Anastasia plucked them off by the ear or the pigtail and chases them off to bed---while from up the street came the clackety-clack of the watchman’s boots on the cobble and the clang-clang of his lantern against his knee, and the mighty roll of his great voice booming through the night, "Guardia serno-o-o! A las doce han dado-o-o.
And it was May again, said the old Anastasia. It was the first day of May and witches were abroad in the night, she said--for it was a night of divination, and night of lovers, and those who cared might peer into a mirror and would there behold the face of whoever it was they were fated to marry, said the old Anastasia as she hobble about picking up the piled crinolines and folding up shawls and raking slippers in corner while the girls climbing into four great poster-beds that overwhelmed the room began shrieking with terror, scrambling over each other and imploring the old woman not to frighten them.
"Enough, enough, Anastasia! We want to sleep!"
"Go scare the boys instead, you old witch!"
"She is not a witch, she is a maga. She is a maga. She was born of Christmas Eve!"
"St. Anastasia, virgin and martyr."
"Huh? Impossible! She has conquered seven husbands! Are you a virgin, Anastasia?"
"No, but I am seven times a martyr because of you girls!"
"Let her prophesy, let her prophesy! Whom will I marry, old gypsy? Come, tell me."
"You may learn in a mirror if you are not afraid."
"I am not afraid, I will go," cried the young cousin Agueda, jumping up in bed.
"Girls, girls---we are making too much noise! My mother will hear and will come and pinch us all. Agueda, lie down! And you Anastasia, I command you to shut your mouth and go away!""Your mother told me to stay here all night, my grand lady!"
"And I will not lie down!" cried the rebellious Agueda, leaping to the floor. "Stay, old woman. Tell me what I have to do."
"Tell her! Tell her!" chimed the other girls.
The old woman dropped the clothes she had gathered and approached and fixed her eyes on the girl. "You must take a candle," she instructed, "and go into a room that is dark and that has a mirror in it and you must be alone in the room. Go up to the mirror and close your eyes and shy:
Mirror, mirror, show to me him whose woman I will be. If all goes right, just above your left shoulder will appear the face of the man you will marry." A silence. Then: "And hat if all does not go right?" asked Agueda. "Ah, then the Lord have mercy on you!" "Why." "Because you may see--the Devil!"
The girls screamed and clutched one another, shivering. "But what nonsense!" cried Agueda. "This is the year 1847. There are no devil anymore!" Nevertheless she had turned pale. "But where could I go, hugh? Yes, I know! Down to the sala. It has that big mirror and no one is there now." "No, Agueda, no! It is a mortal sin! You will see the devil!" "I do not care! I am not afraid! I will go!" "Oh, you wicked girl! Oh, you mad girl!" "If you do not come to bed, Agueda, I will call my mother." "And if you do I will tell her who came to visit you at the convent last March. Come, old woman---give me that candle. I go." "Oh girls---give me that candle, I go."
But Agueda had already slipped outside; was already tiptoeing across the hall; her feet bare and her dark hair falling down her shoulders and streaming in the wind as she fled down the stairs, the lighted candle sputtering in one hand while with the other she pulled up her white gown from her ankles. She paused breathless in the doorway to the sala and her heart failed her. She tried to imagine the room filled again with lights, laughter, whirling couples, and the jolly jerky music of the fiddlers. But, oh, it was a dark den, a weird cavern for the windows had been closed and the furniture stacked up against the walls. She crossed herself and stepped inside.
The mirror hung on the wall before her; a big antique mirror with a gold frame carved into leaves and flowers and mysterious curlicues. She saw herself approaching fearfully in it: a small while ghost that the darkness bodied forth---but not willingly, not completely, for her eyes and hair were so dark that the face approaching in the mirror seemed only a mask that floated forward; a bright mask with two holes gaping in it, blown forward by the white cloud of her gown. But when she stood before the mirror she lifted the candle level with her chin and the dead mask bloomed into her living face.
She closed her eyes and whispered the incantation. When she had finished such a terror took hold of her that she felt unable to move, unable to open her eyes and thought she would stand there forever, enchanted. But she heard a step behind her, and a smothered giggle, and instantly opened her eyes.
"And what did you see, Mama? Oh, what was it?" But Dona Agueda had forgotten the little girl on her lap: she was staring pass the curly head nestling at her breast and seeing herself in the big mirror hanging in the room. It was the same room and the same mirror out the face she now saw in it was an old face---a hard, bitter, vengeful face, framed in graying hair, and so sadly altered, so sadly different from that other face like a white mask, that fresh young face like a pure mask than she had brought before this mirror one wild May Day midnight years and years ago.... "But what was it Mama? Oh please go on! What did you see?" Dona Agueda looked down at her daughter but her face did not soften though her eyes filled with tears. "I saw the devil." she said bitterly. The child blanched. "The devil, Mama? Oh... Oh..." "Yes, my love. I opened my eyes and there in the mirror, smiling at me over my left shoulder, was the face of the devil." "Oh, my poor little Mama! And were you very frightened?" "You can imagine. And that is why good little girls do not look into mirrors except when their mothers tell them. You must stop this naughty habit, darling, of admiring yourself in every mirror you pass- or you may see something frightful some day." "But the devil, Mama---what did he look like?" "Well, let me see... he has curly hair and a scar on his cheek---" "Like the scar of Papa?" "Well, yes. But this of the devil was a scar of sin, while that of your Papa is a scar of honor. Or so he says." "Go on about the devil." "Well, he had mustaches." "Like those of Papa?" "Oh, no. Those of your Papa are dirty and graying and smell horribly of tobacco, while these of the devil were very black and elegant--oh, how elegant!" "And did he speak to you, Mama?" "Yes… Yes, he spoke to me," said Dona Agueda. And bowing her graying head; she wept.
"Charms like yours have no need for a candle, fair one," he had said, smiling at her in the mirror and stepping back to give her a low mocking bow. She had whirled around and glared at him and he had burst into laughter. "But I remember you!" he cried. "You are Agueda, whom I left a mere infant and came home to find a tremendous beauty, and I danced a waltz with you but you would not give me the polka." "Let me pass," she muttered fiercely, for he was barring the way. "But I want to dance the polka with you, fair one," he said. So they stood before the mirror; their panting breath the only sound in the dark room; the candle shining between them and flinging their shadows to the wall. And young Badoy Montiya (who had crept home very drunk to pass out quietly in bed) suddenly found himself cold sober and very much awake and ready for anything. His eyes sparkled and the scar on his face gleamed scarlet. "Let me pass!" she cried again, in a voice of fury, but he grasped her by the wrist. "No," he smiled. "Not until we have danced." "Go to the devil!" "What a temper has my serrana!" "I am not your serrana!" "Whose, then? Someone I know? Someone I have offended grievously? Because you treat me, you treat all my friends like your mortal enemies." "And why not?" she demanded, jerking her wrist away and flashing her teeth in his face. "Oh, how I detest you, you pompous young men! You go to Europe and you come back elegant lords and we poor girls are too tame to please you. We have no grace like the Parisiennes, we have no fire like the Sevillians, and we have no salt, no salt, no salt! Aie, how you weary me, how you bore me, you fastidious men!" "Come, come---how do you know about us?"
"I was not admiring myself, sir!" "You were admiring the moon perhaps?" "Oh!" she gasped, and burst into tears. The candle dropped from her hand and she covered her face and sobbed piteously. The candle had gone out and they stood in darkness, and young Badoy was conscience-stricken. "Oh, do not cry, little one!" Oh, please forgive me! Please do not cry! But what a brute I am! I was drunk, little one, I was drunk and knew not what I said." He groped and found her hand and touched it to his lips. She shuddered in her white gown. "Let me go," she moaned, and tugged feebly. "No. Say you forgive me first. Say you forgive me, Agueda." But instead she pulled his hand to her mouth and bit it - bit so sharply in the knuckles that he cried with pain and lashed cut with his other hand--lashed out and hit the air, for she was gone, she had fled, and he heard the rustling of her skirts up the stairs as he furiously sucked his bleeding fingers. Cruel thoughts raced through his head: he would go and tell his mother and make her turn the savage girl out of the house--or he would go himself to the girl’s room and drag her out of bed and slap, slap, slap her silly face! But at the same time he was thinking that they were all going to Antipolo in the morning and was already planning how he would maneuver himself into the same boat with her. Oh, he would have his revenge, he would make her pay, that little harlot! She should suffer for this, he thought greedily, licking his bleeding knuckles. But---Judas! He remembered her bare shoulders: gold in her candlelight and delicately furred. He saw the mobile insolence of her neck, and her taut breasts steady in the fluid gown. Son of a Turk, but she was quite enchanting! How could she think she had no fire or grace? And no salt? An arroba she had of it!
"... No lack of salt in the chrism At the moment of thy baptism!" He sang aloud in the dark room and suddenly realized that he had fallen madly in love with her. He ached intensely to see her again---at once! ---to touch her hands and her hair; to hear her harsh voice. He ran to the window and flung open the casements and the beauty of the night struck him back like a blow. It was May, it was summer, and he was young---young! ---and deliriously in love. Such a happiness welled up within him that the tears spurted from his eyes. But he did not forgive her--no! He would still make her pay, he would still have his revenge, he thought viciously, and kissed his wounded fingers. But what a night it had been! "I will never forge this night! he thought aloud in an awed voice, standing by the window in the dark room, the tears in his eyes and the wind in his hair and his bleeding knuckles pressed to his mouth.
But, alas, the heart forgets; the heart is distracted; and May time passes; summer lends; the storms break over the rot-tipe orchards and the heart grows old; while the hours, the days, the months, and the years pile up and pile up, till the mind becomes too crowded, too confused: dust gathers in it; cobwebs multiply; the walls darken and fall into ruin and decay; the memory perished...and there came a time when Don Badoy Montiya walked home through a May Day midnight without remembering, without even caring to remember; being merely concerned in feeling his way across the street with his cane; his eyes having grown quite dim and his legs uncertain--for he was old; he was over sixty; he was a very stopped and shivered old man with white hair and mustaches coming home from a secret meeting of conspirators; his mind still resounding with the speeches and his patriot heart still exultant as he picked his way up the steps to the front door and inside into the slumbering darkness of the house; wholly unconscious of the May night, till on his way down the hall, chancing to glance into the sala, he shuddered, he stopped, his blood ran cold-- for he had seen a face in the mirror there---a ghostly candlelight face with the eyes closed and the lips moving, a face that he suddenly felt he had been there before though it was a full minutes before the lost memory came flowing, came tiding back, so overflooding the actual moment and so swiftly washing away the piled hours and days and months and years that he was left suddenly young again; he was a gay young buck again, lately came from Europe; he had been dancing all night; he was very drunk; he s stepped in the doorway; he saw a face in the dark; he called out...and the lad standing before the mirror (for it was a lad in a night go jumped with fright and almost dropped his candle, but looking around and seeing the old man, laughed out with relief and came running.
"Oh Grandpa, how you frightened me. Don Badoy had turned very pale. "So it was you, you young bandit! And what is all this, hey? What are you doing down here at this hour?" "Nothing, Grandpa. I was only... I am only ..." "Yes, you are the great Señor only and how delighted I am to make your acquaintance, Señor Only! But if I break this cane on your head you maga wish you were someone else, Sir!" "It was just foolishness, Grandpa. They told me I would see my wife."
"Wife? What wife?" "Mine. The boys at school said I would see her if I looked in a mirror tonight and said: Mirror, mirror show to me her whose lover I will be.
Don Badoy cackled ruefully. He took the boy by the hair, pulled him along into the room, sat down on a chair, and drew the boy between his knees. "Now, put your cane down the floor, son, and let us talk this over. So you want your wife already, hey? You want to see her in advance, hey? But so you know that these are wicked games and that wicked boys who play them are in danger of seeing horrors?"
"Well, the boys did warn me I might see a witch instead."
"Exactly! A witch so horrible you may die of fright. And she will be witch you, she will torture you, she will eat
your heart and drink your blood!"
"Oh, come now Grandpa. This is 1890. There are no witches anymore."
"Oh-ho, my young Voltaire! And what if I tell you that I myself have seen a witch.
"Right in this room land right in that mirror," said the old man, and his playful voice had turned savage.
"Not so long ago. When I was a bit older than you. Oh, I was a vain fellow and though I was feeling very sick that night and merely wanted to lie down somewhere and die I could not pass that doorway of course without stopping to see in the mirror what I looked like when dying. But when I poked my head in what should I see in the mirror but...but..."
"And then she bewitch you, Grandpa!"
"She bewitched me and she tortured me. l She ate my heart and drank my blood." said the old man bitterly.
"Oh, my poor little Grandpa! Why have you never told me! And she very horrible?
"Horrible? God, no--- she was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen! Her eyes were somewhat like yours but her hair was like black waters and her golden shoulders were bare. My God, she was enchanting! But I should have known---I should have known even then---the dark and fatal creature she was!"
A silence. Then: "What a horrid mirror this is, Grandpa," whispered the boy.
"What makes you slay that, hey?"
"Well, you saw this witch in it. And Mama once told me that Grandma once told her that Grandma once saw the devil in this mirror. Was it of the scare that Grandma died?"
Don Badoy started. For a moment he had forgotten that she was dead, that she had perished---the poor Agueda; that they were at peace at last, the two of them, her tired body at rest; her broken body set free at last from the brutal pranks of the earth---from the trap of a May night; from the snare of summer; from the terrible silver nets of the moon. She had been a mere heap of white hair and bones in the end: a whimpering withered consumptive, lashing out with her cruel tongue; her eye like live coals; her face like ashes... Now, nothing--- nothing save a name on a stone; save a stone in a graveyard---nothing! was left of the young girl who had flamed so vividly in a mirror one wild May Day midnight, long, long ago.
And remembering how she had sobbed so piteously; remembering how she had bitten his hand and fled and how he had sung aloud in the dark room and surprised his heart in the instant of falling in love: such a grief tore up his throat and eyes that he felt ashamed before the boy; pushed the boy away; stood up and looked out----looked out upon the medieval shadows of the foul street where a couple of street-lamps flickered and a last carriage was rattling away upon the cobbles, while the blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their tiled roofs looming like sinister chessboards against a wild sky murky with clouds, save where an evil old moon prowled about in a corner or where a murderous wind whirled, whistling and whining, smelling now of the sea and now of the summer orchards and wafting unbearable the window; the bowed old man sobbing so bitterly at the window; the tears streaming down his cheeks and the wind in his hair and one hand pressed to his mouth---while from up the street came the clackety-clack of the watchman’s boots on the cobbles, and the clang-clang of his lantern against his knee, and the mighty roll of his voice booming through the night:
"Guardia sereno-o-o! A las doce han dado-o-o!"
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