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Updated: May 15, 2025
They proceeded, on Burley's motion, to divide among themselves the command of the men who had assembled, and whose numbers were daily increasing.
It was impossible that she could mistake the description of Helen; and as this advertisement caught her eye the very day after the whole house had been disturbed and scandalized by Burley's noisy visit, and on which she had resolved to get rid of a lodger who received such visitors, the good-hearted woman was delighted to think that she could restore Helen to some safe home.
Morton, however, hesitated for an instant, whether he should not send the Major or Lord Evandale intimation of Burley's threats.
He read their descriptions, and it was clear that the stern stranger who had just left with Henry Morton, was Balfour of Burley, the actual commander of the band of assassins, though Morton himself knew nothing of Burley's terrible deed. "Horse, horse, and pursue, my lads!" exclaimed Cornet Grahame. "The murdering dog's head is worth its weight in gold." II. Henry Morton's Escape
So, since he had known the wit, his business had fallen from him, and he had passed through the Bankrupt Court. A very shabby-looking dog he was, indeed, and his nose was redder than Burley's. John made a drunken dash at poor Helen. "So you are the Pentheus in petticoats who defies Bacchus," cried he; and therewith he roared out a verse from Euripides. Helen ran away, and Leonard interposed.
"Wade, I reckon you want to go fetch Wils?" queried Lem. "If it's all the same to you. I'd rather not," replied Wade. "By Golly! I don't blame you. Boys, shore'n hell, Burley's after Wils." "Wal, suppos'n' he is," said Montana. "You can gamble Wils ain't agoin' to run. I'd jest like to see him face thet outfit. Burley's a pretty square fellar. An' he's no fool."
He accompanied Burley now to the haunts to which his friend went to spend his evenings; and more and more though gradually, and with many a recoil and self-rebuke there crept over him the cynic's contempt for glory, and miserable philosophy of debased content. Randal had risen into grave repute upon the strength of Burley's knowledge.
I got him to think of an' I can't afford to run no resks of bein' et, ef you can." Not a wink of sleep did she get that night and when the morning dawned and to the horrors of the night were added a telegram from a neighbour of Burley's saying that Burley had fallen from the haymow and broken his leg, but he sent his respects and hoped they'd have a good journey, Amelia Ellen grew uncontrollable.
Burley's auspices the parent of revels as frolicking and frantic as those out of which the old Greek Goat Song ever tipsily rose. This would not do. There was a great riot in the streets one night, and the next morning the usher was dismissed. Fortunately for John Burley's conscience, his father had died before this happened, died believing in the reform of his son. During his ushership Mr.
Smedley, who was a meek woman, evidently got frightened, and was heard in precipitate retreat. Long and loud talk recommenced, Burley's great voice predominant, Mr. Douce chiming in with hiccoughy broken treble. Hour after hour this lasted, for want of the drink that would have brought it to a premature close. And Burley gradually began to talk himself somewhat sober. Then Mr.
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