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Updated: June 12, 2025
The belated rations needed by Brewster's party, packed on mules hurried down from Prescott, were to start at dawn for Sunset Pass under stout infantry guard, and they, too, would probably be swallowed up in the mountains.
Well, all I can say, then, is that the other New York hotels must be pretty mouldy, if this is the best of the lot! I took a room here last night," said Archie quivering with self-pity, "and there was a beastly tap outside somewhere which went drip-drip-drip all night and kept me awake." Mr. Brewster's annoyance deepened. He felt that a chink had been found in his armour.
At about the same moment that Professor Binstead was clicking his tongue in Mr. Brewster's sitting-room, Archie Moffam sat contemplating his bride in a drawing-room on the express from Miami. He was thinking that this was too good to be true. His brain had been in something of a whirl these last few days, but this was one thought that never failed to emerge clearly from the welter. Mrs.
Swearengen Jones was as mute as the mountains in which he lived. There was no word from him, there was no assurance that he would approve of what had been done to obliterate Edwin Peter Brewster's legacy. Dan DeMille and his wife implored Monty to come with them to the mountains before his substance was gone completely.
He was shrewd, careful, and thrifty, and his money was handled with all the skill of a Wall Street financier. At the time of his death, in Portland, he did not owe a dollar in the world. His property is absolutely unencumbered safe and sound as a government bond. It's rather overwhelming, isn't it?" the lawyer concluded, taking note of Brewster's expression. "And he he left everything to me?"
"Thank you, Miss McIntyre; good evening," and the busy reporter hurried away. There was a curious expression in Mrs. Brewster's eyes, but she dropped her gaze on her finger bowl too quickly for Clymer to analyze its meaning. "What can have taken Mr. Rochester out of town?" she asked.
He also made lanthorns of paper to provide himself with light as he walked to school in the dark winter mornings. The only love affair in Newton's life appears to have commenced while he was still of tender years. The incidents are thus described in Brewster's "Life of Newton," a work to which I am much indebted in this chapter.
They'uns wuz a-nigh on top o' we'uns afore we seed they'uns, an' then we'uns had t' scatter. Jim run one way an' me another. I come back here t' see ef yo' had any o' the boys here. I hearn tell that a passel o' Yankee ossifers is at a dance over at the Widder Brewster's an' I thought we'uns might done gether they'uns in ef we'uns went about it right."
Other men had poured poetry into Polly Brewster's ears, and she had thought them vapid or priggish or affected, according as they had chosen this or that medium. This man was different. For all his outer grotesquery, the noble simplicity of the verse matched some veiled and hitherto but half-expressed quality within him, and dignified him.
See Muller's observations on this phenomenon, "Physiology of the Senses," Baley's translation, p. 1395. Sir David Brewster's Letters on Natural Magic, p. 39. Newton's explanation is as follows: "This story I tell you to let you understand, that in the observation related by Mr.
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