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Updated: September 25, 2025
"Hello, Martin Macy," said Perry shortly, "where's this stone-age champagne?" "What's the rush? This isn't an operation, understand. This is a party." Perry sat down dully and looked disapprovingly at all the neckties. Baily leisurely opened the door of a wardrobe and brought out six wicked-looking bottles and three glasses. "Take off that darn fur coat!" said Martin Macy to Perry.
He was a Connecticut man, and had given himself up at the commencement of the war, getting three dozen for his pains. He was then sent on the Halifax station, where he gave himself up again. He received three dozen more, then had his shirt thrown over his back and was sent to us. I saw the back and the shirt, myself, and Baily said he would keep the last to be buried with him.
The music was not in the house, but seemed to come from the yard, or beyond it. Miss Anne Baily took a candle, and went down the back stairs. She opened the back door, and, standing there, heard the same faint but solemn harmony, and could not tell whether it most resembled the distant music of instruments, or a choir of voices.
What we have thus glanced at is but a fragment of the truly surprising mass of work accomplished by Baily in the course of a variously occupied life. A rare combination of qualities fitted him for his task.
He came to America before the outbreak of the Revolution, was gazetted lieutenant in his regiment May 15, 1776, and shortly afterwards appointed adjutant. He settled at St. George, N. B., after his regiment was disbanded, and among his neighbors were Capt. Philip Baily and a number of officers, non-commissioned officers and private soldiers of the regiment.
He tells us that in the fall of 1796 a party of "Dutchmen," in the Pittsburgh region, fashioned a boat with side paddle wheels which were turned by a treadmill worked by eight horses under the deck. This strange boat, which passed Baily when he was wrecked on the Ohio near Grave Creek, appeared "to go with prodigious swiftness."
The other decorations were neckties and a pink man reading a pink paper devoted to ladies in pink tights. "When you have to go into the highways and byways " said the pink man, looking reproachfully at Baily and Perry. "Hello, Martin Macy," said Perry shortly, "where's this stone-age champagne?" "What's the rush? This isn't an operation, understand. This is a party."
Baily' really is." When, shortly after half-past one, the novelist walked on to the platform at Liverpool Street he was approached by a narrow-faced, middle-aged man in a blue serge suit who presented the appearance of a ship's engineer on leave.
Pray for me, my dear Lucy. 'Make my compliments to Mrs. Cobb, and Miss Adey, and my old friend Hetty Baily, and to all the Lichfield ladies. 'I am, dear Madam, 'Yours, affectionately, 'Bolt-court, Fleet-street, March 19, 1782. On the day on which this letter was written, he thus feelingly mentions his respected friend and physician, Dr. Lawrence:
Perry sat down dully and looked disapprovingly at all the neckties. Baily leisurely opened the door of a wardrobe and brought out six handsome bottles. "Take off that darn fur coat!" said Martin Macy to Perry. "Or maybe you'd like to have us open all the windows." "Give me champagne," said Perry. "Going to the Townsends' circus ball to-night?" "Am not!" "'Vited?" "Uh-huh." "Why not go?"
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