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The butter-knife was genuine, shining, solid silver, with her initials, M.B.P., Martha Bilsby Purtett, given in luxuriant flourishes; but then the kiss had such a fine twang, such an exhilarating titillation! The late Perry's kisses, from first to last, had wanted point. They were, as the Spanish proverb would put it, unsavory as unsalted eggs, for want of a moustache.
"Yes, Bilsby," cried Colonel Blomsberry, "it is too bad!
"Why, there might be something to do over there, and if they accepted our services " "What are you thinking of?" cried Bilsby. "Work at ballistics for the benefit of foreigners!" "Perhaps that would be better than not doing it at all," answered the colonel. "Doubtless," said J.T. Maston, "it would be better, but such an expedient cannot be thought of." "Why so?" asked the colonel.
"It would be but just and fair," returned Colonel Blomsberry. "Go and propose it to the President of the United States," cried J. T. Maston, "and see how he will receive you." "Bah!" growled Bilsby between the four teeth which the war had left him; "that will never do!" "By Jove!" cried J. T. Maston, "he mustn't count on my vote at the next election!"
A quarter of an hour afterwards the two learned friends were descending the slope of the Rocky Mountains, and two days afterwards they reached San Francisco at the same time as their friends of the Gun Club, having killed five horses on the road. Elphinstone, Blomsberry, and Bilsby rushed up to them upon their arrival. "What is to be done?" they exclaimed.
Hutchinson had been joined by her brother-in-law, John Wheelwright, the deprived vicar of Bilsby. Her social influence was then at its height; her amiable disposition had made her popular, and for some time past she had held religious meetings for women at her house. Paul.
"This is distressing," said brave Tom Hunter, whilst his wooden legs were carbonising at the fireplace of the smoking-room. "Nothing to do! Nothing to look forward to! What a tiresome existence! Where is the time when cannon awoke you every morning with its joyful reports?" "That time is over," answered dandy Bilsby, trying to stretch the arms he had lost. "There was some fun then!
He has himself to feed on an immortal feast He sits at that eternal board, before that unfailing dish, which grows the more he ruminates upon it. Fat of the fat, sweet of the sweet is Bilsby to Bilsby's palate. What will become of Bilsby when he dies?
In any case, it was decided in the Gun Club that Blomsberry brothers, Bilsby, and Major Elphinstone should go straight to San Francisco, and consult as to the means of raising the projectile from the depths of the ocean. These devoted men set off at once; and the railroad, which will soon cross the whole of Central America, took them as far as St. Louis, where the swift mail-coaches awaited them.
"This is horrible!" said Tom Hunter one evening, while rapidly carbonizing his wooden legs in the fireplace of the smoking-room; "nothing to do! nothing to look forward to! what a loathsome existence! When again shall the guns arouse us in the morning with their delightful reports?" "Those days are gone by," said jolly Bilsby, trying to extend his missing arms. "It was delightful once upon a time!
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