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Updated: May 13, 2025
We then listened to the tale of the doctor's experiences that day amid the sturdy, natural-minded population of a muling village not far from Bursley. Seldom have I had such a bath in the pure fluid of human nature. All sense of time was lost. I lived in an eternity. I could not suggest to my host that we should depart. I could, however, decline more whisky.
But how is one to phrase it without wronging Daniel Povey? He was entirely moral; his views were unexceptionable. The truth is that, for the ruling classes of Bursley, Daniel Povey was just a little too fanatical a worshipper of the god Pan. He was one of the remnant who had kept alive the great Pan tradition from the days of the Regency through the vast, arid Victorian expanse of years.
And so, if among themselves the group at Bursley charged her with inconstancy, she must accept the accusation, to which she was inevitably exposed by the very ardour of her temperament. The putting-on of brakes took her unawares. The train was in Brighton, sliding over the outskirts of the town. Miss Gailey opened her apprehensive eyes.
Already archery-booths and cricketing-tents were rising on the lower grounds towards the river, whither the lads of Bursley and Lobourne, in boats and in carts, shouting for a day of ale and honour, jogged merrily to match themselves anew, and pluck at the lining laurel from each other's brows, line manly Britons. The whole park was beginning to be astir and resound with holiday cries.
The paper was printed, the train-parcels for Knype, Longshaw, Bursley, and Turnhill were despatched; the boys were waiting; the fingers of the clock in the publishing department were simply flying. It had been arranged that the bulk of the Hanbridge edition, and in particular the first copies of it, should be sold by boys from the gilt chariots themselves.
I perceived that, unaided and unprotected, I should never have succeeded in reaching Bursley from Knype. A whistle sounded. 'Better get in, he suggested; and then in a tone of absolute command: 'Give me your bag. I obeyed. He opened the door of a first-class carriage. 'I'm travelling second, I explained. 'Never mind. Get in. In his tones was a kindly exasperation. I got in; he followed.
Speed-the-Plough was nothing loath, and in a short time they were following the two lads on the road to Bursley, while a horizontal blaze shot across the autumn and from the Western edge of the rain-cloud. Search for the missing boys had been made everywhere over Raynham, and Sir Austin was in grievous discontent. None had seen them save Austin Wentworth and Mr. Morton.
Not often is a town such as Bursley starred with such a woman as Mrs. Daniel Povey. "But what's wrong?" Samuel asked, trying to be firm. And, "What is wrong?" he asked himself. "What does all this mean, at after one o'clock in the morning?" "Look here, Sam'l," Daniel recommenced, seizing his shoulder again.
Old Barlow wants no urging on to wind up the Football Club. He's absolutely set on it. He's lost too much over it. If I could stop him from winding it up, I might...." "What?" "I dunno." She perceived that his idea was yet vague. There were two "great" football clubs in the Five Towns Knype, one of the oldest clubs in England, and Bursley.
"That?" said Janet, in a confidential and interested tone. "That's young Clayhanger Edwin Clayhanger. His father's the printer, you know. Came from Turnhill, originally." "I never knew," said Hilda. "But I seem to have heard the name." "Oh! It must have been a long time ago. He's got the best business in Bursley now. Father says it's one of the best in the Five Towns.
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