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Updated: June 19, 2025
"I do not know why I fancy it; but I do. I cannot let the idea go. I do not like the look of him. He does not look like a true man." "Cary, you have grown up since you came to London." "I feel like somebody's grandmother," said I. "But I think I have been growing; to it, Amelia, since I left Brocklebank." "Well, you certainly are much less of a child than you were. I will do my best, Cary."
"The Laird of Brocklebank; and if you had a mother she would be Lady Brocklebank." I thought it sounded rather pleasant. "And when is Duncan coming home?" asked Flora. "To-morrow, or the day after, we hope," said Annas. I noticed that she had less of the Scots accent than Flora; and Mr Keith has it scarcely at all.
His statement is sustained by the evidence I have gathered. Some writers have put the loss at fifty, and others as high as seventy men, but these numbers exceed the truth. Wadsworth had fifty men; Brocklebank may have had as many more. We can account for about ninety-six.
Tories are among the extinct animals." "Not while my father is alive, please, Aunt." "My dear, we are not at Brocklebank, as I told you just now," answered my Aunt Dorothea. Yes, Perkins, certainly, put Miss Courtenay a red ribbon, and Miss Drummond also. My dear girls, you must."
I do not know what it is, and I don't care. Business is always dry, uninteresting stuff. Flora will stay with us while Angus goes on to York, and then he will pick her up again as he comes back. I wish the Bracewells might be here at the same time. I should like Flora and Amelia to know one another, and I do not think they do at all. It is shocking dull here at Brocklebank.
At or near Marlboro' he was informed that Sudbury was the besieged town. It is certain that he left his young men in the garrison at Marlboro' under the command of Lieutenant Jacobs, and he was probably joined by Captain Brocklebank with a part or the whole of his command. It is said that Wadsworth had marched from Boston that day, yet he moved immediately for the relief of Sudbury.
There are two or three people that I would give a good deal for, and I am quite sure they will not be here; and I should think Cecilia dear at three-farthings, with Sir Anthony thrown in for the penny. I wish I were making jumballs in the kitchen at Brocklebank, and could have a good talk with my Aunt Kezia afterwards!
There was, first, the genial reviewer of Vanity Fair, who revels in the wickedness of Becky Sharpe, and who is going to revel in the wickedness of Jane. Then suddenly some Mr. Brocklebank steps in, and you get a "black-marble clergyman" on Jane Eyre. "We have said," says this person, "that this was the picture of a natural heart. This, to our view, is the great and crying mischief of the book.
What happened seems to have been that Miss Rigby set out in all honesty to praise Jane Eyre. Then some infuriated person interfered and stopped her. The article was torn from the unfortunate Miss Rigby and given to Brocklebank, who used bits of her here and there.
"But, Aunt, please give me leave to say that it will not alter my truthfulness, whether the Prince comes to London or goes to the North Pole!" cried I. "If the Elector himself " "'Sh-'sh!" said my Aunt Dorothea. "My dear, that sort of thing may be very well at Brocklebank, but it really will not do in Bloomsbury Square. You must not bring your wild, antiquated Tory notions here.
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