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The sheet within bore the caption, "Office of The Chief of Police," and the few lines, written beneath in fine script, were as follows: "Dear Mr.
So home and to bed. Zachary Cradock, Provost of Eton. Nov. 2, 1678. 'Ita testor', Zach. Cradock. 11th. At the office all the morning, Sir W. Batten, Sir W. Pen, and I about the Victualler's accounts. Then home to dinner and to the office again all the afternoon, Mr.
But I guess I haven't any time to stand here wondering. I've got to beat him to the telegraph office if I want to get a scoop, though he can't have been on hand long enough to get much of an account."
Cabinets will not begin till next week. September 29. No news in the newspaper from Brussels. No dispatches from Sir Ch. Bagot or Mr. Cartwright arrived at the office; but a gentleman who left Brussels at five on Sunday reports that they were then fighting in the town, but the troops had the worst of it.
The goloshes of Fortune were the wet pair; and, besides, why should not a clerk in a police office be wrong sometimes? So he drew them on, thrust his papers into his pocket, placed a few manuscripts under his arm, which he had to take with him, and to make abstracts from at home.
The neighbor who felt deeply for her, did not urge the matter. When Hiram returned at dinner time, his face had in it a more animated expression than usual. "Mother," he said, as soon as he came in, "I heard today that a boy was wanted at the Gazette office, who could write a good hand. The wages were to be four dollars a week." "You did!" Mrs.
Jennings was there in person, and he explained that Mr. Van Bunting was waiting anxiously at the office to see him. Then there were reporters from the various other city papers, who wanted interviews, but Archie was told to say whatever he had to say in the columns of the Enterprise, so he had to deny the reporters for the first time.
"And I don't love you and Davy Junior less because I think so much of the work." It was a fleeting shadow. Those months of preparation and hope were the happiest they had had since the panic began. Only once did his faith waver. It was on the day when Dick Holden, a roll of plans under his arm, came into the office. "Davy, are you too busy to do a little job for me?"
As was natural at his age, he valued power chiefly as the means of procuring pleasure. Millions of crowns were expended on the luxurious villa where he loved to forget the cares of office in gay conversation, delicate cookery and foaming champagne.
The late Sultan Mahmood requiring a page to fill a vacancy in his suite, directed the appointment to be given to the most intelligent pupil. The present secretary was the fortunate one; and by his abilities, his suavity and discretion, has risen to the highest office near the person of majesty." I. Tartar Empire of the Turks in the north and centre of Asia 500-700
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