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Updated: May 13, 2025
Hunt, and to make one more attempt to restrain the loyalty to that candidate of Messrs. Bascom and Botcher. The senator made the attempt, and failed signally. It was half-past midnight by the shining face of the clock on the tower of the state-house, and hope flamed high in the bosom of the Honourable Adam B. Hunt a tribute to the bellows-like skill of Messrs. Bascom and Botcher.
Extraordinary phenomenon at such a time, scenes of long ago and little cherished then, are stealing into his mind. The Reverend Mr. God will hear Mr. Botcher better if he closes his eyes; which he does. Now the platform is being read by State Senator Billings; closed eyes would best suit this proceeding, too. As a parallel to that platform, one can think only of the Ten Commandments.
Jacob Botcher leaned forward, and cracked his seat; but none, even those who had tasted of his hospitality, recognized that the Black Knight had entered the lists the greatest deeds of this world, and the heroes of them, coming unheralded out of the plain clay. Mr.
Jacob Botcher leaned forward, and cracked his seat; but none, even those who had tasted of his hospitality, recognized that the Black Knight had entered the lists the greatest deeds of this world, and the heroes of them, coming unheralded out of the plain clay. Mr.
But that would have helped little, and could not have lasted long. It is not the untrue imaginary Picture of a man and his life that I want from my Schiller, but the actual natural Likeness, true as the face itself, nay TRUER, in a sense. Alas, and the Artist does not even try it; leaves it altogether to the Botcher, being busy otherwise!
We've got to look ahead and have a broad spirit, as Monsieur Joseph says. Tolerantness! We all want it, eh?" "You're a good sort," I say. "I'm a man, like everybody," proudly replies Crillon. "It's not that I hold by accustomary ideas; I'm not an antiquitary, but I don't like to single-arise myself. If I'm a botcher in life, it's cos I'm the same as others no less," he says, straightening up.
Botcher in his line of vision, made what was perhaps an unguarded remark. "Hello, Jake, the general's in number nine Manning sent for him about half an hour ago." It was Mr. Botcher himself who almost closed the door on the gentleman's sharp nose, and took Mr. Crewe's arm confidingly. "We'll go up to the desk and see Doby in the morning, he's busy," said the Honourable Jake.
The Honourable Jacob Botcher, pressing forward as fast as his bulk would permit and with the newspaper in his hand, was met by a calm and distant manner which discomposed that statesman, and froze his stout index finger to the editorial which "perhaps Mr. Crewe had not seen." Mr. Crewe was too big for resentment, but he knew how to meet people who didn't measure up to his standards.
"I didn't know it myself until this morning," said Austen. "Legislative case, I suppose," remarked the Honourable Jacob Botcher, in his deep voice. "No, merely a pleasure trip, Mr. Botcher." The Honourable Jacob rubbed his throat, the two State senators in the window giggled, and Mr. Hamilton Tooting laughed. "I thought you took to the mountains in such cases, sir," said Mr. Botcher.
I know what I'm talkin' about, and I tell you that Ridout and Jake Botcher and Brush Bascom haven't any more notion of lettin' your bills out of committee than they have Gaylord's. Why? Because they've got orders not to." "You're making some serious charges, Mr. Tooting," said Mr. Crewe. "And what's more, I can prove 'em.
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