References in classic literature ?
"Isn't she too young? I have heard that it harms the voice to train it at that age."
The situation of this young lady was now very different from what it had ever been before.
I have said that it was discovered only once, and this brings me to the clearing up of the mystery of the disappearance of young Wickson.
At this high point, Miss Knag's friendship remained for three whole days, much to the wonderment of Madame Mantalini's young ladies who had never beheld such constancy in that quarter, before; but on the fourth, it received a check no less violent than sudden, which thus occurred.
A quantity of caricatures, heads drawn at a stroke, either in color or with the point of a knife, on walls painted in a dark gray, proved that, barring a difference in expression, the most distinguished young girls have as much fun and folly in their minds as men.
"His eminence cannot see the letter without the bearer of it," replied the young man; "but to convince you that I am really the bearer of a letter, see, here it is; and kindly add," continued he, "that I am not a simple messenger, but an envoy extraordinary."
"She's got to give me some candy, then," rejoined his young interlocutor.
"Thanks, Your Highness," said the young man, seriously.
'"Will you never love any one but me--never marry any one beside?" said the young lady.
As I saw him go, picking his way among the nettles, and among the brambles that bound the green mounds, he looked in my young eyes as if he were eluding the hands of the dead people, stretching up cautiously out of their graves, to get a twist upon his ankle and pull him in.
"In a word, you are not the most cunning young fellow in the province for nothing."
News from the world Young had not, but he was filled with news of the Solomons.
He was followed by a tall young man in a grey tweed suit and a straw hat on which were the colours of a famous cricket club.
While the present century was in its teens, and on one sunshiny morning in June, there drove up to the great iron gate of Miss Pinkerton's academy for young ladies, on Chiswick Mall, a large family coach, with two fat horses in blazing harness, driven by a fat coachman in a three-cornered hat and wig, at the rate of four miles an hour.
Even in the shallow Marshalsea, the ever young Archer shot off a few featherless arrows now and then from a mouldy bow, and winged a Collegian or two.