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Updated: May 26, 2025
Speaking of the noble family of Boyle, he said, that all the Lord Orrerys, till the present, had been writers. The first wrote several plays ; the second was Bentley's antagonist; the third wrote the Life of Swift, and several other things; his son Hamilton wrote some papers in the Adventurer and World. He told us, he was well acquainted with Swift's Lord Orrery.
I cannot at present turn to the passage in Cicero, but Bentley's quotation may surely be accepted as evidence of the existence of the passage. The sheriffs' officers, believing the prisoner dead, had retired from the place of execution before he was cut down. Sept. 3, 1736. Venham and Harding, two malefactors, were executed this day at Bristol.
Now, he asked, how were we to recognize God, how might we know how he wished us to live, unless we saw him in human beings, in the souls into which he had entered? In Mr. Bentley's soul? Was this too deep? She pondered, with flushed face. "I never had it put to me like that," she said, presently. "I never could have known what you meant if I hadn't seen Mr. Bentley."
"Why, you seem happier, you look happier. It isn't only that, I can't explain how you impress me. It struck me when you were talking to Mr. Bentley the other day. You seem to see something you didn't see when I first met you, that you didn't see the first time we were at Mr. Bentley's together. Your attitude is fixed directed. You have made a decision of some sort a momentous one, I rather think."
Do you know this part of the country? Mrs. Bentley's words were very welcome, and Hubert replied eagerly 'No; I do not know the country at all well. I have been very little out of London for some years, but I hope now to see more of the country. This is a beautiful place. At that moment he met Mrs. Bentley's eyes, and, feeling that he was touching on delicate ground, he stopped speaking.
He saw instantly that her dread was for him, and it made his task the harder. It's your brother, Alison." "Preston! What is it? He's done something " Hodder shook his head. "He died to-night. He is at Mr. Bentley's." It was like her that she did not cry out, or even speak, but stood still, her hands tightening on his, her breast heaving.
Bentley's expression of assent. "And suppose," he asked, "I were unable to come to any conclusion? I will be frank, Mr. Bentley, and confess to you that at present I cannot see my way. You have heard me preach you know what my beliefs have been. They are shattered.
He was conscious himself, at such times, of no inner recuperation. Something drew him up, and he would find himself living again, at length to recognize the hand if not to comprehend the power. The hand was Horace Bentley's. What was the source of that serenity which shone on the face of his friend? Was it the light of faith? Faith in what? Humanity, Mr.
He saw instantly that her dread was for him, and it made his task the harder. It's your brother, Alison." "Preston! What is it? He's done something " Hodder shook his head. "He died to-night. He is at Mr. Bentley's." It was like her that she did not cry out, or even speak, but stood still, her hands tightening on his, her breast heaving.
And Hodder, as he made his way towards it, recognized the faces of some of those who composed it. Sally Grower was there, and the young women who lived in Mr. Bentley's house, and others whose acquaintance he had made during the summer. Mrs.
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