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Months ago one of The Journal readers suggested a story to be found down on Market street near the Hobart building. Many times since when passing there I have thought that those street hawkers must have a certain picturesque and even humorous value, and hoping to find it I have stopped to listen.
The National Committee issued a bulletin claiming it, but the other side claimed it, too; it would be at least two hours yet before the claim could be decided, and they must suffer in suspense. Harley and Hobart walked together into the street. Harley's forehead was damp. "This is getting on my nerves," he said. "If Pennsylvania goes for Grayson, what then?" asked Hobart.
He overtook Geographe and Naturaliste at King's Island the day the Naturaliste parted company with the Geographe on the former returning to France, and as an officer of the colony was going passenger in her, the mid. was instructed to give him privately a packet for the Admiralty and Lord Hobart, in which, I believe, was one for you. These letters contained the particulars.
He had an interview with Lord Hobart, then Colonial Secretary, who informed him that it was the intention of Government to organize an expedition for discovery in Africa, to be placed under his superintendence.
"Everybody believes I did," said Boyd, with pathetic resignation, "and I am to be hanged for it. So what does it matter now?" "I am going to look for the guilty man," said Hobart, decidedly. Boyd shook his head and lay back on his pallet.
My great-grandfather Ephraim left Stratford near the beginning of the Revolution and came into New York State, first into Dutchess County, when Grandfather was a small boy, and finally settled in what is now the town of Stamford, Delaware County, where he died in 1818. He is buried in a field between Hobart and Stamford.
"I felt a very, very deep interest in you," he admitted gravely, "a greater interest than I have ever felt in any other woman. That is my sole excuse for becoming involved in your affairs. I could not bear to see you make a mistake it might be in my power to prevent." "What mistake?" "Well, first of all, trusting in this man Hobart." She laughed, her eyes glancing up quickly into his face.
Anyhow, here was Hobart, this Saturday afternoon, having tea in the garden. Jane saw him through the mellow golden sweetness of shadow and light. 'Here is Jane, said Lady Pinkerton. Jane's dark hair fell in damp waves over her hot, square, white forehead; her blue cotton dress was crumpled and limp. How neat, how cool, was this Hobart!
"Jimmy Grayson has been here before," interrupted Hobart, "and he says it's true, every word of it; if Jimmy Grayson vouches for a thing, that settles it; and here is a copy of the Grayville Argus; it has to be a pretty good town that can publish as smart a daily as this." He handed a neat sheet to Barton, who laughed. "There speaks the great detective," he said.
All these discoveries were confirmed by the registers of shipping, which showed that Arthur Orton embarked for Valparaiso in 1848, re-embarked for London in 1851, and sailed again for Hobart Town in the following year. But there were other significant circumstances.
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