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It is improbable that Wesson was blind to certain blemishes which could have been urged against this ingenious scheme by a critic with a nice sense of the honorable; but, in his general conduct of life, as in his play at cards, he was accustomed to ignore the rules when he felt disposed to do so. He proceeded to mention in detail a few of the things which he proposed to call upon his ally to do.
"I shan't be able to look him in the face." "That's a bit of luck for you." "You aren't much help, Jimmy." "The subject of Wesson doesn't inspire me somehow I don't know why. Besides, you've simply got to say you changed your mind. You're a woman. It's expected of you." "I feel awfully mean." "What you want to do is to take your thoughts off the business.
D. Kent, a Liverpool gentleman who came over to Preston weekly, for seven years, and preached every Sunday. He got no salary, was content with having his railway fare paid and his Sunday meals provided, and he gave much satisfaction. In the end he had to retire through ill health. Mr. J. S. Wesson, who evaporated quietly from Preston some time ago, followed Mr.
Those who went back with him searched and found in the skull the mark of a pistol ball, and buried in the sand, 'neath the skeleton fingers, was found a Smith & Wesson revolver. In the side pocket of his coat his wallet was discovered, with its contents untouched, and among numerous other articles was a letter addressed to Charles Dalton.
He looks quite nice when you see him at a distance like this, with a good strip of water in between." Mr. Wesson was still standing in a statuesque attitude on the bank. Molly, gazing over the side of the boat into the lake, abstained from feasting her eyes on the picturesque spectacle. "Jolly the water looks," said Jimmy. "I was just thinking it looked rather dirty." "Beastly," agreed Jimmy.
"You understate it, my dear Spennie." "But I'm not a cad." "You're getting quite rosy, Spennie. Wrath is good for the complexion." "And if you think you can bribe me to do your dirty work, you never made a bigger mistake in your life." "Yes, I did," said Wesson, "when I thought you had some glimmerings of intelligence.
Thinking that Broncho Bill would bear a little looking after also, the good man secured a seat by his side at the dinner-table, and remarked pleasantly: "This is Mr. Broncho Bill, is it not?" "Yaas." "Where were you born?" "Near Kit Bullard's mill, on Big Pigeon." "Religious parents, I suppose?" "Yaas." "What is your denomination?" "My what?" "Your denomination?" "O ah yaas. Smith & Wesson."
She did ask for a sleigh to replace the phaeton, and Selwyn managed to get one for her; and Miss Casson, one of the nurses, wrote him how delighted Alixe had been, and how much good the sleighing was doing her. "Yesterday," continued the nurse in her letter, "there was a consultation here between Drs. Vail, Wesson, and Morrison as you requested.
Margaret Wesson, "old Meg," lived in Gloucester until she came to her death by a shot fired at the siege of Louisburg, five hundred miles away, in 1745.
Margaret Wesson, "old Meg," lived in Gloucester until she came to her death by a shot fired at the siege of Louisburg, five hundred miles away, in 1745.
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