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Updated: April 30, 2025
Aunt Patricia did look so uncompromising in a hideous smoke-gray dressing gown made without any attempt at decorations. Her small knot of hair was screwed into a tight coil at the back of her head. Mrs. Burton's own hair had kept its beautiful dusky quality, it had the dark sheen of the hair of the mythical Irish fairies, for only in Anglo-Saxon countries are fairies of necessity fair.
Glad to take the newcomer at her word, the man vanished. Then before Vera could either move or speak, the surprising visitor marched up to her. "Put that pistol away, child, and never handle it again, or you will injure yourself! Now take me upstairs to Polly Burton's sitting-room and make me some tea, for the plain truth is I am famished.
"I reckon thar are five hundred uv them gorillers," replied the mountaineer. "Some uv our people spied on 'em in Burton's Cove an' counted 'bout that number." Colonel Winchester glanced at his sleeping camp. "I have three hundred," he said, "but they're the very flower of our youth. In the open they could take care of a thousand guerrillas and have something to spare. Still in here "
The account of the great fight between Bhujang and the fancy of a certain Mr. Ahmed Khan, which took place one evening "after prayers," may be read by those who have a taste for such matters in Burton's book Sind Revisited. When Bhujang died, Burton gave it almost Christian burial near his bungalow, and the facetious enquired whether the little mound was not "a baby's grave."
Her thoughts were elsewhere and after a moment's hesitation Julie went out and closed the door quietly behind her. The pearls lying near the mirror caught the light and echoed it in their soft shimmer. "Hamilton Burton's collar," she murmured. Then she slowly drew from the envelope in her lap a letter.
Since the far-off days when, as a boy, he had been thrilled by the brilliant detective stories of which French writers, with the one outstanding exception of Poe, then had a monopoly, there had never faded from Senator Burton's mind that first vivid impression of the power, the might, the keen intelligence, and yes, of the unscrupulousness, of the Paris police.
Such as it was, however, Burton's plea for Toleration roused vehement opposition. It was attacked also by Presbyterians, and notably by their champion, Mr. But Edwards did not go unpunished. This brave old lady's idea of Toleration outwent even Burton's, and corresponded more with that absolute idea of Toleration which had been worked out among the Baptists.
Hamilton Burton's smile died and his face grew for a moment solicitous as he read his father's troubled eyes. Old Thomas Burton was shaven and manicured and betailored into a model of well-nourished possibly over-nourished senectitude. His mustaches and beard were waxed and pointed.
At that moment there was a knock, and Miss Burton's landlady poked her head into the room to say there was a gentleman at the door who wanted to see Miss Ruth Shirley. "It must be Mr. Hamilton," said Ruth, who felt guilty on account of the lateness of the hour. "I'll call down and tell him I'll be there in a minute." "It's not Mr. Hamilton. It's no one I know," answered Mrs. Stearns.
Lady Burton's work consisted of six volumes corresponding with Burton's first ten, from which 215 pages were omitted. Owing to the stagnation of Abbazia, and the martyrdom which he endured from the gout, Burton was very glad to get back to Trieste, which was reached on March 5th.
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