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Updated: June 14, 2025
The Slogger fled from the scene like an evil spirit, while John Waters sprang up and grasped the pistol and poker. The effect on Brassey in the drawing-room cannot be conceived, much less described. He shot, as it were, out of the crimson-gilded chair and overturned the lamp, which burst on the floor. Being half full of paraffin oil it instantly set fire to the gauze window-curtains.
Brassey and what impressions he received from the interview, and a preliminary chapter containing a brief outline of Mr.
He also is a gentleman of much culture and noble work, in whose home we saw beautiful things gathered from many lands. The last long trip of Sir Thomas and Lady Brassey was made in the fall of 1883, and resulted in a charming book, In the Trades, the Tropics, and the Roaring Forties, with about three hundred illustrations.
While all this travelling was being enjoyed, and made most useful as well, to hundreds of thousands of readers, Lady Brassey was not forgetting her works of philanthropy. For years she has been a leading spirit in the St. John's Ambulance Association.
One of his old agents having lost all his earnings, Mr. Brassey gave him several new missions, that be might have a chance of recovering himself. But the agent died suddenly, and his wife nearly at the same time, leaving six orphan children without provision. Mr.
Mortimer sank into a chair, and stared blankly before him. She had scratched the match. I am not a married man myself, so have had no experience of how it feels to have one's wife whizz off silently into the unknown; but I should imagine that it must be something like taking a full swing with a brassey and missing the ball.
Brassey to come at once, as a bridge had been washed down. There hours afterwards came a telegraph announcing that a large bank was carried away, and next morning another saying that the rain continued and more damage had been done. Mr.
That seat opposite to us is quite comfortable. You see, I resign myself to the inevitable. I have come to fetch golfers home to luncheon, and I compose myself to listen. Which of you will begin the epic of missed putts and brassey shots which failed by a foot to carry?" Hamel sat alone upon the terrace, his afternoon coffee on a small table in front of him.
The risk, it must be recollected, was constant, and there were moments at which, if Mr. Brassey had died, he would have been found comparatively poor. His fortune was made, not by immoderate gains upon any one transaction, but by reasonable profits in a business which was of vast extent, and owed its vast extent to a reputation, fairly earned by probity, energy and skill.
He might be a pretty minus quantity in a drawing-room or at a dance, but in a bunker or out in the open with a cleek, Eunice felt, you'd be surprised. She was just about to address him in a spirit of kindliness, when he spoke. "Better keep your brassey in the bag on the next nine," he said. "Stick to the iron. The great thing is to keep 'em straight!" Eunice gasped.
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