Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 27, 2025
Lydgate, who had the muscular aptitude for billiards, and was fond of the game, had once or twice in the early days after his arrival in Middlemarch taken his turn with the cue at the Green Dragon; but afterwards he had no leisure for the game, and no inclination for the socialities there. One evening, however, he had occasion to seek Mr. Bambridge at that resort.
It was a fine night, the sky thick with stars, and Mr. Farebrother proposed that they should make a circuit to the old church by the London road. The next thing he said was "I thought Lydgate never went to the Green Dragon?" "So did I," said Fred. "But he said that he went to see Bambridge." "He was not playing, then?" Fred had not meant to tell this, but he was obliged now to say, "Yes, he was.
Bambridge made this remark with an air of disgust, satisfied that his own bragging showed a fine sense of the marketable. "What's the man's name? Where can he be found?" said Mr. Hawley. "As to where he is to be found, I left him to it at the Saracen's Head; but his name is Raffles." "Raffles!" exclaimed Mr. Hopkins. "I furnished his funeral yesterday. He was buried at Lowick. Mr.
"Why, you said just now his was worse than mine," said Fred, more irritable than usual. "I said a lie, then," said Mr. Bambridge, emphatically. "There wasn't a penny to choose between 'em." Fred spurred his horse, and they trotted on a little way. When they slackened again, Mr. Bambridge said "Not but what the roan was a better trotter than yours."
The group had already become larger, the town-clerk's presence being a guarantee that something worth listening to was going on there; and Mr. Bambridge delivered his narrative in the hearing of seven.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking