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To get to Ned's hut which was not nearly so trim or comfortable as Salter's, and stood out in the midst of a vast plain covered with waving yellow tussocks, we had to cross a low range of hills, and pick our way through nearly a mile of swampy ground on the other side.
He had woven such a romance about Master Salter's swineherd and his life, as he watched him week after week from Dame Datchett's door with envious eyes, that even his coat, with the tails almost sweeping the ground, seemed to Jan to have a dignified air.
We went down the dell and over a juniper slope, reminding me of my day at John Salter's house and the last of dear Heriot. Rather to my shame, my companion beat me at running; she was very swift, and my legs were stiff. 'Can you swim? she asked me. 'I can row, and swim, and fence, and ride, and fire a pistol, I said. 'Oh, dear, said she, after eyeing me enviously.
They were not very prompt reaching the door of the Zane residence, but were still there in time to employ Duff Salter's key, instead of violence, to make the entry. "Gentlemen," said the deaf man, with authority, "there is no occasion of any of you pressing in here to alarm a lady. Mr.
Salter's mantelpiece, containing colored sands arranged into landscapes; a work of art sent by Mrs. Salter's sister from the Isle of Wight. The slate would have been quite unused, but for the difficulties Jan got into with his outlines. At last he adopted the plan of making a sketch upon his slate, which he then laid beside him on the walk, and copied it in leaves.
"Should you be offended if I were to offer you and the nurse ten guineas a month to pretend you had given him Mr. Salter's medicines, and not do it?" "Oh, that is not much to do for a gentleman like Sir Charles," said Jones. "But I didn't ought to take so much money for that. To be sure, I suppose, the lady won't miss it." "Don't be a donkey, Jones," said Sir Charles, cutting short his hypocrisy.
Podge could hear plainly what was said in the front parlor, and partly see, by the brighter light there, the motions of the visitor and her friend. She wrote on Duff Salter's tablet, "A deaf man is a great convenience!" "Why?" wrote the large, grave man. "Because he can't hear what girls say to their beaux." "Is that a beau calling on our beautiful friend?" "I'm afraid so!"
All this time F and I were seated amicably side by side on poor Salter's red blanket-covered "bunk," or wooden bedstead, made of empty flour-sacks nailed between rough poles, and other sacks filled with tussock grass for a mattress and pillow.
Most interesting and trustworthy accounts of subjects discussed in the chapter are: T. C. Smith's Parties and Slavery, in American Nation series; F. Bancroft's The Life of William H. Seward ; Allen Johnson's The Life of Stephen A. Douglas ; O. G. Villard's John Brown; a Biography ; L. D. Scisco's Political Nativism in New York ; William Salter's Life of James W. Grimes ; George W. Julian's Life of Joshua R. Giddings . Rhodes, McMaster, and Schouler treat the period critically.
We went down the dell and over a juniper slope, reminding me of my day at John Salter's house and the last of dear Heriot. Rather to my shame, my companion beat me at running; she was very swift, and my legs were stiff. 'Can you swim? she asked me. 'I can row, and swim, and fence, and ride, and fire a pistol, I said. 'Oh, dear, said she, after eyeing me enviously.
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