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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Greater is He that is in you than he that is in the world," is still a consoling assurance to many dejected yet hoping believers. Our dear friend Hannah C. Backhouse is strong in the faith that light increasing, that the fields are white already for harvest, and that the Lord of the harvest is preparing and sending forth laborers into his harvest.
But if she speaks to you, you die within the year. Old John Backhouse is a widower with one daughter. This girl saw the ghost last Midsummer day, and Miss Leyburn and I are now doing our best to keep her alive over the next; but with very small prospect of success. 'What is the girl dying of? fright? asked Mrs. Seaton harshly. 'Oh, no! said the doctor hastily, 'not precisely.
One for Mr. Backhouse, one for Mrs. Backhouse, and one for Becky. There's none for you, Tiza." "Nor none for Becky neither," answered Tiza shortly. "Father'll want two. Becky and me'll get bread and dripping." "Well, come along, Tiza, let's take them in." "No, you take them," said Tiza. "Mother won't want to see me no more, and father'll perhaps be coming in."
The cart started off, and Mrs. Thornburgh was left staring into the receding eyes of 'Jim the Noodle, who, from his seat on the near shaft, regarded her with a gaze which had passed from benevolence into a preternatural solemnity. 'He's sparin' ov 'is speach, is John Backhouse, said Sarah grimly, as her mistress returned to her. 'Maybe ee's aboot reet.
Then there was the farmyard, the cows, and the milking, and the chickens. Everything about them seemed delightful to Milly and Olly, and the top of everything was reached when one evening John Backhouse mounted both the children on his big carthorse Dobbin, and they and Dobbin together dragged the hay home in triumph. And now they had only one week more to stay at Ravensnest.
Backhouse yourselves," said Mrs. Norton. "And if it is her washing-day, or inconvenient to her at all, you mustn't think of going, you know." So early next morning, Milly and Nana and Olly went up to the farm, and came back with the answer that Mrs.
"I would prefer to start at once," said Backhouse. The lounge, a lofty room, forty feet long by twenty wide, had been divided for the occasion into two equal parts by a heavy brocade curtain drawn across the middle. The far end was thus concealed. The nearer half had been converted into an auditorium by a crescent of armchairs. There was no other furniture.
Whenever she is particularly odious or insolent to Miss Raby, I have but to introduce raspberry jam into the conversation, and the woman holds her tongue. She will understand me. I need not say more. I MAY speak now. I have left the place and don't mind. LAWRENCE the Prefect, and Custos of the rods, is marching after the DOCTOR into the operating-room. Master Backhouse.
It was broken by the arrival of two more guests, who entered together. These were Prior, the prosperous City coffee importer, and Lang, the stockjobber, well known in his own circle as an amateur prestidigitator. Backhouse was slightly acquainted with the latter.
She thought of the 'noodle', fading out of life in the room where Mary Backhouse died; she actually saw the white hair, the blurred eyes, the palsied hands, the poor emaciated limbs stretched along the settle. Her heart rose, but she said nothing. 'And has Mrs. Thornburgh been enjoying her summer? 'Oh! I suppose so, said Rose, her tone indicating a quite measureless indifference.
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