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The condition in which he had to-day been discovered by Mr. Ruddiman was not habitual with him. Once a month, perhaps, his melancholy thoughts drove him to the bottle; for the most part he led a sullen, brooding life, indifferent to the state of his affairs, and only animated when he found a new and appreciative listener to the story of his wrongs. That he had been grievously wronged was Mr.

Ruddiman, said in a sorrowful voice 'He calls the Pig and Whistle a pothouse. 'Ah, that was wrong of him! protested the other, no less earnestly. 'A pothouse, indeed! Why, it's one of the nicest little inns you could find anywhere. I'm getting fond of the Pig and Whistle. A pothouse, indeed! No, I call that shameful. The listener's eyes shone with gratification.

Those who will, may read what Ruddiman and Love have said, and oversaid, on both sides of the question: whatever conclusion they come to, it will probably not be that to which George Chalmers comes in his life of Ruddiman: that "Buchanan, like other liars, who, by the repetition of falsehoods are induced to consider the fiction as truth, had so often dwelt with complacency on the forgeries of his Detections, and the figments of his History, that he at length regarded his fictions and his forgeries as most authentic facts."

Ruddiman in a tone of friendly encouragement. 'He'll soon be back, he'll soon be back, and you may depend upon it there'll be no harm done. 'I hope so, sir, but I've an uneasy sort of feeling; I have indeed. 'Don't you worry, Miss Fouracres. When the Prince has gone away he'll be better. Miss Fouracres stood for a moment with eyes cast down, then, looking gravely at Mr.

The situation was high and healthy; the surroundings were picturesque. And for society, well, there was Miss Fouracres, whom Mr. Ruddiman regarded as a very sensible and pleasant person. Of course, no one at Longmeadows had an inkling of the under-master's intention.

It's late. They stood a few paces apart. Mr. Ruddiman had one hand in his waistcoat pocket, the other behind his back; Miss Fouracres was fingering her chin. 'I've been wondering, said the under-master in a diffident voice, 'how you'll manage all alone, Miss Fouracres. 'Well, sir, was the equally diffident reply, 'I've been wondering too.

One afternoon, when he had driven to the market town, his daughter and her guest were in the garden together, gathering broad beans and gossiping with much contentment. 'I wish I could always live here! exclaimed Mr. Ruddiman, after standing for a moment with eyes fixed meditatively upon a very large pod which he had just picked.

Before the sound of the cart had died away she had to wipe moisture from her eyes, and at the moment when she was doing so Mr. Ruddiman came into the parlour. 'Has Mr. Fouracres gone? asked the guest, with embarrassment. 'Just gone, sir, replied the young woman, half turned away, and nervously fingering her chin. 'I shouldn't trouble about it if I were you, Miss Fouracres, said Mr.

'It won't be easy to manage the Pig and Whistle all alone. 'I'm afraid not, sir. 'Besides, you couldn't live here in absolute solitude. It wouldn't be safe. 'I shouldn't quite like it, sir. 'But I'm sure you wouldn't like to leave the Pig and Whistle, Miss Fouracres? 'I'd much rather stay, sir, if I could any way manage it. Mr. Ruddiman drew a step nearer.

This venerable gentleman did me the honour to dine with me yesterday, and he laid his hands upon the heads of my little ones. We had a good deal of curious literary conversation, particularly about Mr. Thomas Ruddiman , with whom he lived in great friendship. 'Any fresh instance of the uncertainty of life makes one embrace more closely a valuable friend.