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Neb and Herbert took the lead, Pencroft the rear, the captain and the reporter between them. The animals which frequented these heights and there were numerous traces of them must necessarily belong to those races of sure foot and supple spine, chamois or goat. Several were seen, but this was not the name Pencroft gave them, for all of a sudden "Sheep!" he shouted.
When the Lord Provost had returned to his chair, I was shown the Councillors themselves at their mahogany tables, in their beautiful Council-chamber, and I made notes not of the debate, as the lynx-eyed reporter, who counted the number of times I sucked my pencil, imagined but of the improved appearance of George Square under snow.
I thought little of it at the time, nor would have given it a second thought but for this letter; but now I'm sure it's the man. I met him on the cars when I went down the line on Wednesday a hard case if ever there was one. He said he was a reporter. I believed it for the moment. Wanted to know all he could about the Scowrers and what he called 'the outrages' for a New York paper.
Pencroft stayed the last in Granite House in order to finish this work, and he then lowered himself down by means of a double rope held below, and which, when once hauled down, left no communication between the upper landing and the beach. The weather was magnificent. "We shall have a warm day of it," said the reporter, laughing. "Pooh!
Quote me as confident of a verdict approving my public course and rebuking the slanderous attack on my private character." "What's the use?" protested Bowers, as the reporter hurried off in quest of Bernard Graves. "It's too late to bluff." "Use," echoed Shelby. "I tell you, man, there's a blunder in the returns. Look, man, look!" snatching up the report from the Flats.
As this was the first specimen in perfect preservation that had reached any city of the United States and, indeed, only the sixth ever reported from American shores, a great deal of interest was excited, and Colin was compelled to give an interview to a reporter, telling the story of the capture.
"The North End Daily Oriole. It's the silliest name I ever heard for a newspaper; and I told 'em so. I told 'em what I thought of it, I guess!" "Was that the reason?" Mrs. Atwater asked. "Was it what reason, mamma?" "Was it the reason they wouldn't let you be a reporter with them?" "Poot!" Florence exclaimed airily. "I didn't want anything to do with their ole paper.
At the first interview "I was not present," states the unknown reporter, but on succeeding occasions this man heard for himself that the king was ready to show hospitality to the Count of Charolais who "has no ill intentions against his father. All he wants to do is to separate him from the people who govern him badly." The conferences were held in the lodgings of Odet d'Aydie.
Buchanan's mind in 1861 as the time for his exit from the White House approached. At the North there had been a political ground-swell; at the South, secession, half accomplished by the Gulf States, yawned in the Border States. Curiously enough, very few believed that war was imminent. As a reporter for the States I met Mr. Lincoln immediately on his arrival in Washington.
The reporter of the committee, the Abbe Doney, since made Bishop of Montauban, called attention to the unquestionable superiority of his talent.
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