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Jacques, near the Parloir aux Bourgeois, by the gate of the University; by Albertus Magnus in the Cordeliers, hard by the College of Bourgoyne; by Pic de la Mirandole, who lived I care not a rap where and debated I know not from Adam how or when; by Lord Bacon, who took more bribes in a day than you and I could compass in a dozen years; by Spinoza, a good worker of glass lenses, but a philosopher whom I have never read nor will; by Coleridge when he was not talking about himself nor taking some filthy drug; by John Pilkington Smith, of Norwood, Drysalter, who has, I hear, been lately horribly bitten by the metaphysic; and by a crowd of others.
Thence to the office and wrote a letter to Norwood to satisfy him about my nonpayment of his bill, for that do still stick in my mind. So at night home to supper and to bed. 20th. To the office, where upon Mr.
Povy and Colonell Norwood to discourse about some payments of Tangier. They gone, I to the office and there sat all the morning.
I am very fond of my garden and am especially interested in my roses. Do you know an exquisitely pink rose the only true pink named Mrs. George Norwood? ... I bring myself up with a jerk. I am not writing a book on roses. When the war is over perhaps I shall devote my old age to telling you what I feel and know and think about them.... I had a battle with Timbs. Timbs was about sixty.
I had hurriedly furnished a couple of rooms in the little house, now ours, that I might take my mother into the purer air of Norwood, and permission was given to drive her down in an invalid carriage. The following evening she was suddenly taken worse; we lifted her into bed, and telegraphed for the doctor. But he could do nothing, and she herself felt that the hand of Death had gripped her.
"By the way, a propos of this Norwood business, you see that they had, as I surmised, a confederate in the house, who could be none other than Lal Rao, the butler: so Jones actually has the undivided honor of having caught one fish in his great haul." "The division seems rather unfair," I remarked. "You have done all the work in this business.
BROOT. On July 27, at Charlton House, Queen's Gate, S.W., Jane, greatly beloved mother of John Broot, Labour M.P., in her 83rd year. Fell down the area. Peace, blessed Peace. GUM. On July 27, at No. Church Road, Upper Norwood, Sophia, widow of the late Albert Gum, L.C.C., in her 85th year. Choked whilst eating tripe. Sadly missed! PAVEMAN. On July 27, at No.
Both M. Zola and I had thought this improbable; still, there was a possibility of such delay, and perhaps it was on account of a postponement of the kind that the telegram we awaited had not arrived. I scoured Upper Norwood for afternoon papers. It was extremely warm, and I was somewhat excited.
James's, where we all met to a venison pasty, Major Norwood being with us, whom they did play upon for his surrendering of Dunkirke. Here we staid till three or four o'clock: and so to the Council Chamber, where there met the Duke of York, Prince Rupert, Duke of Albermarle, my Lord Sandwich, Sir Wm. Compton, Mr.
"We the white people of this community, have often given expression of our love and even veneration for such characters as Alfred Howe, Henry Taylor, John Norwood, George Ganse, John H. Howe, Thomas Revera, Joe Sampson, Henry Sampson, Isham Quick, and scores of others whom we must, if we do the right thing, acknowledge as the black fathers of this city.
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