United States or Chile ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Then he crossed into the lane, and stood with his eyes fixed upon Brownriggs, Walker's farm, the pearl of all the farms in those parts, the land with which he thought he could have parted so easily when the question before him was that of becoming in truth the owner of any portion of the estate. But now, every acre was ten times dearer to him than it had been then.
If it were in the market, to be bought, and if the money were forthcoming, of course such a purchase would be expedient. "The money is forthcoming," said the Squire. "We can make it up one way or another. What matter if we did sell Brownriggs? What matter if we sold Brownriggs and Twining as well?" Ralph quite acceded to this.
"We could part with Twining. It don't lie so near as Brownriggs." Ralph felt that it would be necessary that he should say something. "Lord Fitzadam would be only too glad to buy it. He owns every acre in the parish except Ingram's farm." "There'll be no difficulty about selling it, when we have the power to sell. It'll fetch thirty years' purchase.
Just look at the difference of the crops. There's a place with wheat on each side of you. I was looking at them before dinner." "Brownriggs is in a different parish. Brownriggs is in Bostock." "But the land is of the same quality. Of course Walker is a different sort of man from Darvell. I believe there are nearly four hundred acres in Brownriggs." "All that," said the father.
"And Darvell has about seventy; but the land should be made to bear the same produce per acre." The Squire paused a moment, and then asked a question. "What should you say if I proposed to sell Brownriggs?" Now there were two or three matters which made the proposition to sell Brownriggs a very wonderful proposition to come from the Squire.
It shall be a sort of memorial building, a farmhouse of thanksgiving. I'll make it as snug a place as there is about the property. It has made me wretched for these two years." "I hope all that kind of wretchedness will be over now." "Thank God; yes. I was looking at Brownriggs to-day, and Ingram's. I don't think we'll sell either. I have a plan, and I think we can pull through without it.
Sophie, before the Prince could utter a protest, cut him across the face with her riding-whip, and finished up by thrashing him with his own cane. Here you have the stuff, at any rate, of which your murderesses of the violent type are made. It is the metal out of which your Kate Websters, your Sarah Malcolms, your Meteyards and Brownriggs fashion themselves.
In the first place he couldn't sell an acre of the property at all, of which fact his son was very well aware; and then, of all the farms on the estate it was, perhaps, the best and most prosperous. Mr. Walker, the tenant, was a man in very good circumstances, who hunted, and was popular, and was just the man of whose tenancy no landlord would be ashamed. "Sell Brownriggs!" said the young man.
The two were out together, as was usual with them, and were on the road which divided the two parishes, Bostock from Newton. On the left of them was Walker's farm, called the Brownriggs; and on the right, Darvell's farm, which was in their own peculiar parish of Newton. "I was talking to Darvell while you were away," said Ralph. "What does he say for himself?" "Nothing. It's the old story.
Walker, the farmer of Brownriggs, an old man over seventy, who had lived on the property all his life, succeeding his father in the same farm. Walker had known young Newton since he had first been brought to the Priory as a boy, and could speak to him with more freedom than perhaps any other tenant on the estate. "Oh, Mr. Ralph," he said, "this has been a dreary thing!"
Word Of The Day