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Dawson, the surgeon, had inserted in The Times. She came from London; and the only reference she gave was to a lady at a school at Brompton, where she had once been a teacher. But this reference was so satisfactory that none other was needed, and Miss Lucy Graham was received by the surgeon as the instructress of his daughters.
"Well, well?" said Percival. "Hold Brompton," said Beck, with a brevity of word and clearness of perception worthy a Spartan. "Old Brompton?" repeated Percival, thinking the reply the most natural in the world. "In a big 'ous by hisself," continued Beck, "with a 'igh vall in front." "You would know it again?" "In course; he's so wery peculiar." "He, who?" "Vy, the 'ous.
Osborne, of Russell Square, may be induced to relent towards the child of your friend, HIS ERRING AND SELF-WILLED SON. And Amelia will not be ill-disposed to give him up. The widow is CONSOLED, and is about to marry a reverend gentleman, the Rev. Mr. Binny, one of the curates of Brompton. A poor match. But Mrs.
MacOubrey, the Henrietta of “Wild Wales,” who had a sincere affection for him, was his constant attendant during his last illness, and was with him at the end. He was buried at Brompton Cemetery, where his body lies beside that of his wife. Not long after his death, his Oulton home was pulled down.
"So does Thayor, Billy, and it'll be a good many years before he forgets it," declared Jack. "You saved his life, he says. That's one thing he wants to see you for, and another is that he's played out and needs a rest." "Bless me!" cried Brompton in the tragic tones of his profession. "You saved his life, me boy?" Holcomb, for the first time, appeared embarrassed.
It was not the man but his works that should live, he would say, and his books contained the best part of himself. While in London, however, at the house which he took in Hereford Square, Brompton, he consented to sit for his portrait, the artist being Henry Philips. This picture afterwards passed into the possession of his step-daughter, Mrs. Henrietta MacOubrey.
The first Governor of the Royal Hospital, Sir Thomas Ogle, K.T., was buried here in 1702, aged eighty-four, and also the first Commandant of the Royal Military Asylum, Lieutenant-Colonel George Williamson, in 1812. The pensioners are now buried in the Brompton Cemetery. For complete account of the Royal Hospital and the Ranelagh Gardens adjoining, see p. 67.
'I am sure, proceeded the girl, 'I thought love was the most beautiful and romantic thing too nice to be talked about, for fear it should turn one's head, but here it seems to be really nothing but plague and bother and crossness. 'Poor Bob! said Lance, 'you got the worst of it up at Brompton. 'I got it every way, said Robina.
She thought that if she spent all the afternoon out and alone, it would comfort her, and she would think it out. Trees and sky and sun had always a soothing effect on her. She went out, walked a little, felt worried by the crowd of shoppers swarming to Sloane Street and the Brompton Road, got into a taxi and drove to the gate of Kensington Gardens, opposite Kensington Gore.
But, instead, the bell of Brompton pealed out warningly over our souls, and, when its clanging died, there drifted in the sound of a preaching voice.
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