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Chron. Ann. Burt. p. 323. Ann. Waverl. p. 210. W. Heming. p. 571. This nobleman was a younger son of that Simon de Montfort, who had conducted, with such valour and renown, the crusade against the Albigenses, and who, though he tarnished his famous exploits by cruelty and ambition, had left a name very precious to all the bigots of that age, particularly to the ecclesiastics.
I'll clear Robert Penfold at my own expense. I have lost her. She loathes me now. Have mercy on me, and let me leave the country!" He cringed and crawled so that he disarmed anger, and substituted contempt. "Ay," said Burt. "He don't hit like you, Mr. Penfold; this is a chap that ought to have been in Newgate long ago. But take my advice; make him clear you on paper, and then let him go.
The old fellow did not feel my touch; he did not hear my voice; he was gazing toward the field with an expression on his face to which no human speech could render justice. He knew what was coming. It could not be denied him in that moment. How confidently young Burt stood up to the plate! None except a natural hitter could have had his position.
He had been a foundling, and knew no more of his parentage than a young ostrich, that springs from the deserted egg in the sand. He was left, when an infant, at the door of a poor mechanic, in Boston, by the name of Burt, and by him transferred to the almshouse, where he was called after the name of his finder, with the pet name of Barty, given him by his nurse.
"Oh, that scoundrel that pair of scoundrels!" roared the doctor, shaking his fist and dancing about on the hearth-rug. "Pray God they may catch 'em before the trial comes off!" The good physician's prayer was not answered in this case, for Burt was the only criminal who appeared in the dock.
Burt at home?" he asked, quietly. "This way, Sir," said the nimble Hiram, going before, but half turning and studying the visitor as he spoke, and quite unable to comprehend him at a glance. "I will speak to him." Abel Newt was shown into a large drawing-room. The furniture was draped for the season in cool-colored chintz. There was a straw matting upon the floor.
"Thanks, Webb," she said, with eyes full of merriment; "I foresee an amazing amount of good luck in this little emblem. Indeed, I feel sure that startling proofs of it will occur to-day;" and she looked significantly at Burt, who laughed very consciously. "What mischief has Burt been up to, Amy?" Mrs. Clifford asked.
Banneker, Chief," said Mr. Greenough crisply. "Carrying concealed weapons? If your men in that precinct were fit to be on the force, there would be no need for private citizens to go armed. You get the point, I see. Good-bye." "Unless I am a bad guesser we'll have Banneker back here by evening. And there'll be no manhandling in his case," Mallory said to Burt. Counsel was taken of Mr.
He was already busy at the door of the safe. "Well done, Mr. Burt, well done!" cried Williams, in a quivering voice; and going up to the body he kicked it in the side. "You see I am not afraid, Mr. Burt, am I?" "Stow your gab!" snarled the navvy. "Here's the rum all gettin' loose." Picking up the bottle he took a pull of what was left in it.
Burt and Benham, asking for an interview, and within a day or two saw the senior partner, Mr. Burt. He was blandly sympathetic, but distant. "Allow me to offer my deep condolence, madam; but as this is, I presume, a business visit, may I ask " "I am left in great distress. I wish to appeal to Lord Essendine." "On what grounds?" "My infant son is the next heir."
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