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Then he made inquiries at the nearest cottages, but no one had seen his son or Harry Merryweather. He went from cottage to cottage in vain, making inquiries. At last a fisherman suggested that the beach should be searched. Mr Moreton at once set out with a party quickly assembled to perform the anxious task, dreading to find the mangled body of his son and his brave young friend.
"Well, Jacob, are you quite tired of my service, or will you stay by me a little longer? I've no right or wish to stand in your way, and if you would like to make another voyage with Captain Merryweather, or can find any other situation that will suit you better than mine, I would not have you consider yourself bound to me at all."
"I lay he seed Molly Merryweather comin' up from the low grounds," remarked Solomon, when the young man had moved out of earshot. "Thar's truth spoken for once, if only by accident," retorted old Adam. "Yonder comes Reuben Merryweather's wagon now, laden with fodder. Is thar anybody settin' on it, young Adam? My eyes is too po' to make out." "Molly Merryweather, who else?" responded the younger.
Lamb was fifty on February 10, 1825. I had grown to my desk. I have been chained to that galley thirty years, a long shot. I have almost grown to the wood." Boldero, Merryweather ... Feigned names of course. It was Boldero that Lamb once pretended was Leigh Hunt's true name. In Lamb's early city days there was a banking firm in Cornhill, called Boldero, Adey, Lushington & Boldero.
Merryweather had confided to him the other day that he drew the line at going out in the evening, and would not exchange his own fireside for the King of Dahomey's. He thought it probable that the excellent Miles was at this moment sitting with pipe and newspaper on the back veranda of his house; and if it had not been Hildegarde's birthday, the Colonel might have wished himself beside him.
Our cabs were dismissed, and following the guidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a narrow passage, and through a side door which he opened for us. Within there was a small corridor, which ended in a very massive iron gate. This also was opened, and led down a flight of winding stone steps, which terminated at another formidable gate. Mr.
A messenger from the army, thought Anerley; and then, as he watched, the sun suddenly struck the man on the side of the head, and his chin flamed into gold. There could not be two horsemen with beards of such a colour. It was Merryweather, the engineer, and he was returning. What on earth was he returning for?
Merryweather, striking his stick upon the flags which lined the floor. "Why, dear me, it sounds quite hollow!" he remarked, looking up in surprise. "I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!" said Holmes severely. "You have already imperilled the whole success of our expedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit down upon one of those boxes, and not to interfere?"
Merryweather listened for the faintest shade of coquetry in the girl's tone, found none, and listened on, well content. "What do I want of it?" cried Gerald. "What a question! "O Hilda, fair beyond compare! I'll make a garland of thy hair, Shall twine my heart forevermair, Until the day I dee!" "Very proper!" said Hilda. "I am glad to find that you know your ballads.
"Does Professor Merryweather know how to do everything?" she asked. "He seems to be the Admirable Crichton come to life again." "Nearly everything," said Bell, with judicious candour. "He cannot write verses, and he does not like dancing; those are the only things I can think of just now."
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