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This was the winner of the race I saw so long ago. Herring's colored portrait, which I have always kept, shows him as a great, powerful chestnut horse, well deserving the name of "bullock," which one of the jockeys applied to him. "Rumor credits Dr. Holmes," so "The Field" says, "with desiring mentally to compare his two Derbies with each other." I was most fortunate in my objects of comparison.
But the rotten wood and the herring's head declared most solemnly, by all they held sacred, that the glow-worm only gave light at certain times, and must not be allowed to compete with themselves. The old lamp assured them that not one of them could give sufficient light to fill the position of a street lamp; but they would believe nothing he said.
He went, in the first place, to Dick Herring's cottage, for though of late Dick had always met him with a sulky, surly expression on his countenance, they were once good friends, and he thought that under the present circumstances the heart of even the rough smuggler would be softened; but Dick was away, and Susan, his wife, said that she did not know when he would return she never did know.
When they were well away from the camp and there were no other boys in sight, Billy stopped short suddenly, and said: "Funny thing about Herring's recognizing that girl's poem in Jack's verses, wasn't it?" "Why, I saw those verses two weeks ago, and knew they were Jack's," replied Harry. "Funny about my getting that black eye the other night, too, wasn't it?" Billy went on.
Herring was not only smarting under not being allowed to go out with the rest, but also from the knowledge that Jack was a better boatman than he was, and that the boat which he had made himself, for this was known to all the boys now, could make better time than the expensive one his father had bought him and he said to Merritt, who had no one to go out with him, and was not allowed to run Herring's boat: "I'd like to fix that boat of Sheldon's so that he couldn't run it.
It is only fifteen feet square, with a Brussels carpet, papered with brown, and hung with a lithograph of Rosa Bonheur's "Horse Fair," an engraved copy of Herring's "Village Blacksmith," and two smaller ones, of "The Stable" and "The Barn Yard," from the same artist. A table and bureau, spread with crotchet work, eight chairs and the bed, were all the furniture.
"If it rests with him," said Soames hurriedly, when the maid was gone, "I suppose I may take it for granted that this unnatural marriage will take place: in that case there'll be formalities. Whom do I deal with Herring's?" Irene nodded. "You don't propose to live with them?" Irene shook her head. "What happens to this house?" "It will be as Jon wishes."
"I am busy," Herring interrupted her, scowling, and he swung his chair so that his back was toward her. "You won't be busy long, if you keep talking that way," predicted the girl. "Tut-tut!" said the Hon. Andrew, warningly. "Your threats, young lady, are as unwise as Mr. Herring's speech." "But they carry more weight," she asserted stoutly.
Come, step in, I want to do you a service, and it isn't the like of me that would do you a harm," said Herring, in a persuasive tone. Peter, who was in reality very tired from his long walk, was glad to have a lift, and his doubts as to Herring's intentions, which from certain circumstances known to him he entertained, having been quieted, he stepped up to the cart to get in.
This petty economy is called "the magistrates' light," they having the direction of the lighting, paving, and cleansing of towns. The same management may be met with in some other countries besides Denmark. "What was that?" exclaimed the herring's head; "did not a star fall right down? I think it went into the lamp!
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