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As we have seen in a previous chapter, Mr. Hawker's accident in Ireland was due to his foot slipping over the rudder bar of his machine. It is thought that the disaster to Mr. Pickles' machine on "Aerial Derby" day in 1913 was due to the same cause, and on one occasion Mr.
The dog wagged his tail and sleepily watched this ceremony. When his master had again entered the house the dog went forward and sniffed at the top step, but the thing that had lain there was gone. It was evident at breakfast that Hawker's sisters had achieved information. "What's the matter with you this morning?" asked one. "You look as if you hadn't slep' well."
After a long while we closed our book, and looking through the window, saw a hawker's turn-out which was too sorrowful for description. We looked out again while the train was going slowly, and saw a teamster's camp: three or four wagons covered with tarpaulins which hung down in the mud all round and suggested death.
I must allow some exceptions, for once every year there comes upon thousands of them the burden of finding five shillings to pay for the hawker's licence that provides them with the semblance of a living, or an excuse for begging.
He crouched to meet the dog, his eyes gleaming, his lips drawn back from his teeth. Puck was no fool. He arrested himself almost in midair, and planted himself just out of the hawker's reach, his whole enraged little body a vision of defiance, and barked madly. The Indian moved backwards, uttering a flood of furious speech, while for each step that he moved the terrier advanced another.
So far Davitt having a hawker's licence, as in the case of Forrester this would have been perfectly legitimate. What was wanted by the authorities was evidence to show a connection with the Fenian conspiracy.
The fourteenth-century effigy of a knight in the north aisle is supposed to be that of Sir Ranulf de Blanchminster, who is commemorated in one of Hawker's ballads. It is fitting to think of the poet-parson in this spot; not only are we now approaching very near his own parish, but his father was Vicar of Stratton and lies buried in the church's chancel.
South Australia owes its free kindergarten to the personal initiative and private munificence of the Rev. Bertram Hawker, youngest son of the late Hon. G. C. Hawker. I had already met, and admired the kindergarten work of, Miss Newton when in Sydney, and was delighted when she accepted Mr. Hawker's invitation to inaugurate the system in Adelaide.
There was a number in the hawker's collection called 'Conscrits Francais, which may rank among the most dissuasive war-lyrics on record. It would not be possible to fight at all in such a spirit. The bravest conscript would turn pale if such a ditty were struck up beside him on the morning of battle; and whole regiments would pile their arms to its tune.
Superior fittin's, net on the roof, baggage platform, pistol 'olsters the most com-plete and the most gen-teel turn-out I ever see! The 'ole for seventy-five pound! It's as good as givin' her away!" "Do you propose I should trundle it myself, like a hawker's barrow?" said I. "Why, my good man, if I had to stop here, anyway, I should prefer to buy a house and garden!"
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