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Updated: June 24, 2025
"Think of Lady Violet, Bovey! If anything were to happen to you out here, and the children, Bovey, Rex and Florence, you know!" "Oh! cut it, now, Arthur; I tell you it's of no use!" Young Clarges looked out across the river, and bit the tiny yellow moustache. "Then I won't be done, either!" said he to himself.
He rallied Arthur on his poor arm but fortunately did not ask to look at it. He ordered up a sherry cobbler apiece and brought out some of his rarest weeds. "I say, what do you think of Simpson, Bovey?" said Clarges, suddenly. "Think? why, that there's nothing in him to think about." "Did you know he was married?" "No; is he?" Bovey was always laconic. "Yes, and he has four children.
Now, you be good, as we say to the children, and I'll show you that again after all the others." Next he showed him in a sort of ecstasy, Bovey's children. "Rex and Florence," he said, in an awe-struck tone. Bovey laughed, so did Simpson. So would anybody have done. "What are you laughing at," said young Clarges, solemnly. "Oh, at me! that's all right, everybody laughs at me.
She had no lodgers at the present moment; a Frenchman had left the day before, and the prospect was in every way favorable, to the comfort of the two friends. When the dusk fell, Bovey made a camp-fire. "It's what we came for," he said, "and we can't begin too early or have enough of it, and I feel chilly, queer, quite unlike myself to-night. It's a depressing country just about here."
Clarges, abnormally wakeful, tried to read Bell's Life which lay before him and waited until Bovey was fast asleep. They occupied the same room, a large double-bedded one, which opened into a bathroom and parlour en suite.
Nearly had a lodging in the Police Station though, but I told him who we were and swore to having marks the size of flat-irons on both arms, so he let me go." "And you," said Simpson, turning to Clarges. "Me! oh! I shall be done. I say, couldn't I walk out with you now and see a doctor about it? I believe I will, Bovey, if you can spare me.
Half-witted he sometimes called him, though on other occasions he stood in awe of his bright, candid, fearless nature, and his truthful and reckless tongue. "I say," went on Clarges excitedly, shading his eyes with his hand. "There are two trees out there in a straight line from this very cannon that that I should know again, Bovey! Do look where I point now like a good fellow.
Beside the Bovey Tracey lignitic beds to which we have above referred, other tertiary clays are found to contain this early promise of coal. The eocene beds of Brighton are an important instance of a tertiary lignite, the seam of surturbrand, as it is locally called, being a somewhat extensive deposit.
He had made himself peculiarly obnoxious to the Roundheads at Bovey Tracey, and here he lay concealed, and provisions were secretly conveyed to him. Here also he hid his treasure. A path is pointed out, trodden by him at night as he paced to and fro. He was at last tracked by bloodhounds to his hiding-place, seized, carried to Exeter and hanged.
"Bovey, though you are the strongest fellow in England, you're no less a coward!" Young Clarges looked up as he spoke, seriously: "I shall be done!" "You? Well, so I should expect from a baby like you, Arthur! You will never grow up, never learn to think for yourself! Now let me alone on the subject, and let us look up this country place we were told about!" But Clarges was not easily silenced.
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