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Updated: May 9, 2025
My dear we made them some hot tea and toast and some hot brandy-and-water with a little comfortable nutmeg in it, and at first they were scared and low in their spirits but being fully insured got sociable. And the first use Mr. Buffle made of his tongue was to call the Major his Preserver and his best of friends and to say "My for ever dearest sir let me make you known to Mrs.
You will understand that no one has said a word to her about it; or, if they have, I don't know it. You'll find the squire on your side. That's all. Couldn't you manage to come down this Easter? Tell old Buffle, with my compliments, that I want you. I'll write to him if you like it. I did know him at one time, though I can't say I was ever fond of him.
A single candle hung on a wire over the barrel, and afforded light auxiliary to that thrown out by the fireplace. The game had been going largely in Buffle's favor, as was usually the case, when one of the opposition injudiciously played an ace which was clearly from another pack of cards, inasmuch as Buffle, who had dealt, had the rightful ace in his own hand.
Men who begin as late as you did never know what official life really means. Now I've been at it all my life, and I think I do understand it." "It's not a profession I should like unless where it's joined with politics," said Harold Smith. "But then it's apt to be so short," said Sir Raffle Buffle.
"When a man's heart is broken, he cannot forget it," was his reply. She still stood by him, and still kept her hand upon him: but she could think of no other words of comfort to say. "I will go to bed," he said. "It is the best place for me." Then she left him, and he went to bed. The Softness of Sir Raffle Buffle
"Stand back, the hull crowd uv yer," said Buffle; "this ain't no fight me an' the gentleman got private bizness." And, laying his hand on Berryn's shoulder, he said, "What are yer doin' here, when yer know a lady like that?" "Suffering hell for abusing heaven," replied Berryn, passionately. "Then why don't yer go back?" inquired Buffle.
If he could only make up his mind that he would shoot himself, would it not be a pleasant thing to inflict some condign punishment on this odious man before he left the world? But Crosbie knew that he was not going to shoot himself, and he knew also that he had no power of inflicting condign punishment on Sir Raffle Buffle. He could only hate the man, and curse him inwardly.
Radley, who, with indifferent success, was filling the self-assigned roll of moderator of the little assemblage. "Nothing settled by the meeting?" said Mr. Buffle, echoing a despondent suggestion by Deacon Bates. "Of course not. You don't suppose that what theologians have been squabbling over for two thousand years can be settled in a day, do you?
Buffle" which also addressed him as her Preserver and her best of friends and was fully as cordial as the blanket would admit of. Also Miss Buffle. The articled young gentleman's head was a little light and he sat a moaning "Robina is reduced to cinders, Robina is reduced to cinders!"
Buffle looks about him in his usual suspicious manner and the Major fires and asks him "Do you see a Ghost sir?" "No sir" says Mr. Buffle. "Because I have before noticed you" says the Major "apparently looking for a spectre very hard beneath the roof of my respected friend. When you find that supernatural agent, be so good as point him out sir." Mr. Buffle stares at the Major and then nods at me.
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