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Oh, for five hundred brave men in mail, and the cross on their shoulders! By the bones of Becket, I should, ere morning, be lord of all; and, torturing himself with the idea of such a prize escaping his grasp, Bisset sunk into silence, and indulged in reflection. 'Sir knight, said Walter, after a long pause, 'I have made a strange discovery.
"Oh, they are very good friends, but you see, their interests and views of life are quite different. Reuben, although an excellent worker in business hours, is a student, or perhaps rather what one would call a scholar, whereas Walter is more a practical man of affairs decidedly long-headed and shrewd. He is undoubtedly very clever, as Mrs. Hornby said."
Let Walter Hartright, teacher of drawing, aged twenty-eight years, be heard first. It was the last day of July. The long hot summer was drawing to a close; and we, the weary pilgrims of the London pavement, were beginning to think of the cloud-shadows on the corn-fields, and the autumn breezes on the sea-shore.
It is also remarkable that the change should take place just at the time it does, at the beginning of the second narrative." "It does seem strange that such a change should be made, if it was not done for a purpose," said Mrs. Williams. "I believe I can explain why the change was made," said Walter. "Very well, Walter," said the pastor, "let us hear your explanation."
Walter Scott is out and away the king of the romantics. The Lady of the Lake has no indisputable claim to be a poem beyond the inherent fitness and desirability of the tale. It is just such a story as a man would make up for himself, walking, in the best health and temper, through just such scenes as it is laid in.
"The truth!" echoed the girl, looking at him with some surprise, though turning just a trifle paler, he thought. "The truth about what?" "About that man James Flockart," was his low, distinct reply. "About him! Why, my dear Walter," she laughed, "whatever do you want to know about him? You know all that I know. We were agreed long ago that he is not a gentleman, weren't we?" "Yes," he said.
An article it contains is so completely a confirmation of much that I have written, I insert it here verbatim, except for change of names to comply with my narrative and the omission of irrelevant matter. The article was written by the Secretary of the Exchange: WALTER E. STOWE. It is hardly in the character of a journalist that our readers will generally think of Mr.
There were six of us, all told, and the little contingent was captained by Mr Walter Neas, who, partly as a reward for gallantry as I believe, was afterwards appointed manager of Her Majesty's mines in Warora, Central India.
And as the boy passed them, humbled and penitent, with Mr Paton's hand resting upon him, there was not one of those who saw it that did not learn from that sight a lesson of calm forgiveness as noble and as forcible as any lesson which they could learn at Saint Winifred's School. Walter sat at dinner pale and crying, but unpitied.
Everywhere in the Western newspaper circles Walter heard stories of Californians who had gone East and become geniuses the minute they crossed the Hudson.... Walter also went East and crossed the Hudson, but he did not become a genius.
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