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Previously it had been called Petty France, from the number of French refugees and merchants who inhabited it. Milton lived in No. 19, now destroyed. The house belonged to Jeremy Bentham, and was afterwards occupied by Hazlitt, who caused a tablet bearing the words "Sacred to Milton, Prince of Poets," to be placed on the outside wall in memory of his famous predecessor.
Jeremy, and Gertrude were all made happy by the free admission of the latter to the sick-room, the housekeeper was never conscious that anyone knew her ill-will to Gertrude. There were care and tenderness in Gertrude, which only the warmest love could have dictated. When Emily awoke at night from a troubled sleep, she found a cooling draught ready at her lips, and knew from Mrs.
"Jeremy might have another as it's his last day, I suggest," said Aunt Amy, who was determined to be pleasant. "I don't want any, thank you," said Jeremy, although it was treacle pudding, which he loved. "Well, I think," said Mrs. Cole, "that we'll have high tea at half-past seven, and the children shall stay up afterwards and we'll have 'Midshipman Easy."
T'other was a red-headed, tough young devil, an' took such a deal of it that we had to brain him with a handspike at the last." Even the crew were silenced for a little by this recital. Jeremy and Bob shivered in their places, hardly daring to breathe. Then a Portuguese spoke from the corner, his greedy little black eyes glittering in his swarthy face.
There was a general scurrying of sailors to get out their cutlasses and pistols, and in the confusion Jeremy found an easy opportunity to crawl out of the hiding place and busy himself like the rest. Going on deck a minute later, he found Bob and whispered a brief account of what he had seen. For the present there was much to be done on deck.
"'UPON ENTERING A BALLROOM. The head should be carried stately, the bust well-poised, the arms disposed gracefully. The gait should be swimming, the head graciously aslant and the lips slightly moue." "Well?" demanded Diana, glancing at Jeremy defiantly. "Now what's it mean, Peregrine?" "'Moue?" I explained gravely, "is a French word signifying 'to pout' the lips."
"My lord," wrote Jeremy Taylor to the Earl of Carbery, when sending him the first copy of the Holy Dying, "My lord, it is a great art to die well, and that art is to be learnt by men in health; for he that prepares not for death before his last sickness is like him that begins to study philosophy when he is going to dispute publicly in the faculty.
They would have persuaded me I was in purgatory, but I knew too well the pursy short-breathed voice of the Father Abbot. Saint Jeremy! how different from that tone with which he used to ask me for another slice of the haunch! the dog has feasted with me from Christmas to Twelfth-night."
Upon his third rejection, Jeremy Runacles was driven by indignation to offer his hand at once to Mistress Isabel Seaman, sister of that same Robert Seaman who, as Mayor of Harwich, admitted Sir Anthony Deane to the freedom of the Corporation, and had the honour to receive, in exchange, twelve fire-buckets for the new town-hall.
This had been a year ago, when Jeremy had been only seven; nevertheless, he had been present during the first part of the ceremony, and Charlotte had struck him as entirely amazing. He had simply gazed at her with his mouth open, forgetting all his good manners.
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