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"Why not?" asked Wyley. Scrope shrugged his shoulders. "I should need an example before I believed you." The example was at the door. The corporal of the guard at the Catherine Port knocked and was admitted.

When Sir Miles called the King's health, and smacked his jolly lips over his wine, he eyed it and the company as if the liquor was ambrosia. He asked Harry Warrington whether they had port like that in Virginia? He said that was nothing to the wine Harry should taste in Norfolk.

Directly the full force of the hurricane had struck the ship, every part of her deck became untenable; and the sailors, dazed and dismayed, took shelter in the port alleyway under the bridge. It had a door aft, which they shut; it was very black, cold, and dismal.

I remember to have remarked an ugly-horned reptile of a modern warship in the usual moorings across the port, but my mind was so profoundly plunged in melancholy that I paid no heed. Indeed, I had little time at my disposal.

Upon the whole, they protest themselves to have been as innocent as they have been unfortunate. Instead of relief in a friendly port, they have seen their misfortunes aggravated by the conduct of officers, who, in their greediness for gain, can see in no circumstance any thing but proofs of guilt.

The old hostelry took its name from a giant oak which grew at its doorstep just to one side of the maple-lined driveway that led down to the Port Road, a hundred yards or so beyond. This enormous tree spread its branches over the entire width and half the length of the roof.

And in due season, the vessel arrived at "an English port," as the papers stated. "Let's go and see if Captain Merceau wants us to give any evidence against those fellows," suggested Joe; and this seemed a good plan to follow. "Ah, yes, my American friends!" the commander murmured, as the boys were shown into his cabin. "What can I do for you?"

As she did not arrive at Port Phillip within a reasonable time, a cutter was sent along the coast in search of her; and her long boat was found ashore near the Lakes Entrance, but nothing else belonging to her was ever seen.

"I couldn't speak to you till the brig was safe in port, and you slipped away, but I've brought you up at last; and give me your hand again, sir. I say, isn't it a pity you are a lord instead of a sailor?" Ipsden. "But I am a sailor." Ancient Mariner.

It was haymaking time and French women and children were tossing the hay on wooden pitchforks during hot days which came between heavy rains. Our men were marching through that beauty, and were conscious of it, I think, and glad of life. Boulogne was a port through which all our youth passed between England and the long, straight road which led to No Man's Land.