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Updated: May 23, 2025
I see clearly enough what he is about: he wants to gain me over to side with him and that's the reason he's so terribly civil. Depend on it, Mr Blore, there'll be a mutiny aboard before long; and when it comes there'll be murder and fighting, and we shall fare ill among the villains. I cannot say much for the discipline of this ship, either; she is more like a privateer than a man-of-war.
"Please, Mr Blore, tell the old gentleman that I am much obliged to him," answered Ben; "but as I have not fallen quite into his style of living, I beg he will excuse me; and, to say the truth, I had rather serve on board a man-of-war till I can get a pension, and go and settle down with my Susan in Old England, than turn into an Arab sheikh with a dozen wives and a thousand blackamoor followers."
We were so tired from our journey that we longed to lie down; but we were unable to do so until we could scrape from the floor the offal which thickly covered it. "I hope they are not going to send us supperless to bed," exclaimed Ben. "Can't you sing out that we are in want of food, Mr Blore, and that we shall be much obliged to them if they will send us something to drink at the same time?"
The mullions of this window being found much decayed, were carefully and consistently restored during the last year by Mr. Blore, and the ancient stained glass replaced. Not only does Saint George's Chapel form a house of prayer and a temple of chivalry, but it is also the burial-place of kings. At the east end of the north aisle of the choir is a plain flag, bearing the words
I believe, Mr Blore, you were right after all; and that the Arab who got hold of him must have gone off to another camp. All we can hope is, that he is among better people than these black fellows here." I hoped so likewise, though I began to fear that our chances of escape were very small, and that we should be doomed to perpetual slavery by our savage captors.
Thenceforth the Kynastons assumed, not only the Audley arms and the motto, "Blore Heath," but the rising sun of York as their crest. Wild Humphrey was the son of Sir Roger Kynaston, by his wife the Lady Elizabeth, daughter of Henry Gray, Earl of Tankerville, and Lord of Powys.
She found Lady Blore seated at her writing-table in the drawing-room, which was choked by the eastern and Japanese impedimenta, the draperies, the krises, the metal bowls, the ivory boxes, which an Indian career seems so inevitably to entail. Sir John had brought back crates of the kind of foreign bric-
I'd up and marry en, if I were she; since her downfall has brought 'em quite near together, and made him as good as she in rank, as he was afore in bone and breeding. 'D'ye think she will? asked Sammy Blore. 'Or is she meaning to enter upon a virgin life for the rest of her days?
In either transept a bench-table runs along the west wall, and the large lower windows are plainly splayed, but have their sills stepped. The glass in them is bad, except some seventeenth century pieces in the window over the north door. The roof, which is of oak, and Perpendicular, had been concealed in the time of Blore by sham Norman vaulting constructed of papier maché.
You may bury me, or do what you like; but as long as I have got a tongue above ground to wag, I will not knock off speaking the truth. I say, Mr Blore, I don't think they quite make out what I mean. You just tell them, please; and give them a bit of your own mind too."
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