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Jarvis, the artist, was at that time the eccentric and elegant lion of society in Baltimore. "Jack Randolph" had recently sat to him for his portrait. The gentlemen have all voted him a rare wag and most brilliant wit; and the ladies pronounce him one of the queerest, ugliest, most agreeable little creatures in the world.
And the Olivers had given a great big reception last week for Madeline's coming out, and such airs Beth never saw, and Mrs. Jarvis was there dressed like a queen. And she, Estella, had asked Madeline if she wasn't going to ask Beth Gordon to her party, seeing she'd been called for Mrs. Jarvis, and Madeline just tossed her head and said, "Oh, Aunt Jarvis never thinks about her now."
When the train moved on, he lighted a very black cigar, and began to contemplate the situation. "Well, how do we stand now?" As the voice of Clarence Vaughan fell upon his ear, Jarvis bounded from his seat like an india rubber ball and stared wildly at the young man who had dropped down into the seat beside him as if from the ceiling. "Well, you are a rum one," said he, at last.
"Not more than a day or two, I think. I gathered from what Jarvis said that they were not willing to remain long where trouble was thick." "How are their sympathies placed in this great division of our people?" Harry laughed. "I inferred," he replied, "from what Jarvis said that they intend to keep the peace.
Polly and Jane drove to the Gordons and secured Miss Jessie, and then Jane went to town to fetch her other friends. Jack went with her, after having telegraphed to Jim Jarvis. They all came home by mid-afternoon, just as a message came from Jarvis: "Will be on deck at six." Florence Marcy and Minnie Henderson were former neighbors and schoolmates of Jane's.
Jarvis stood behind them, her arms extended across their shoulders, as if she would willingly protect them from this anguish if she could. Poor Georgie sobbed at the foot of the bed, a picture of childish woe. The minister's words of peace and comfort, spoken at this moment, were sorely needed, for the prayer had scarcely ended when Mrs.
John, although it was stipulated in the contract that he should do so, and early in 1765 he withdrew from the Company. In the autumn of 1764, Leonard Jarvis, a young man of twenty-two years of age, became associated with William Hazen as co-partner in his business in Newburyport and became by common consent a sharer in the business at St. John. So far as we can judge from his letters, Mr.
Ended, a decent pause was made, then all took place, Jarvis Barrow and his daughter and granddaughter, Robin Greenlaw, Thomas and Willy, Menie and Merran. The cold meat, the bread, and other food were passed from hand to hand, the ale poured. The Sunday hush, the Sunday voices, continued to hold. Jarvis Barrow would have no laughter and idle clashes at his table on the Lord's day.
Jarvis, and whoever was related to her must surely be above the ordinary in spite of appearances. Mrs. Jarvis was looking down at Elizabeth with a smile illuminating her sad face. "So this is the little baby with the big eyes my dear husband used to talk so much about." She heaved a great sigh.
Superintendent A. W. Jarvis, who was in charge at Lethbridge in the nineties, refers to this in one of his reports. He says, "Several deserters from the American army arrived here in the spring, but only one of them brought a horse. This was taken from him and was sent back to the officer commanding at Fort Assiniboine.
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