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Updated: July 15, 2025
As Butterwick did not come up, the dog enjoyed himself roaming about the yard a while; but one day, finding the back window in the parlor open, he jumped in and assumed control of that apartment and the hall.
James went briskly to the door. At it he stopped and said: "There's a chance that I may miss him. There may not be a game of Spelka; and he may come straight home. Perhaps you'd better wait in till about five." "Yes: I think I'd better. He'd be sure to come back and not know anything about Mr. Butterwick, if there weren't anybody here," said Pollyooly.
Butterwick has no acquaintance with the horticultural art, he instructed Brown to use his own judgment in fixing up the place, and Brown said he would. On the morning of the first day, while Mr. Butterwick was sitting on the front porch, he saw Brown going out of the gate with a gun upon his shoulder, and Mr.
He died in 1646, and is buried in the church. The estate probably passed from the Sheffield family soon after his death, for in 1653 the manor-house or farm of Butterwick, called the Great House, "passed to Margaret Clapham, wife of Christopher Clapham and widow of Robert Moyle, and her son Walter Moyle after her." In 1677 it was conveyed by Walter Moyle for the use of Anne Cleeve and her heirs.
For instance, Modwena was credited with 5,884l.; Ayrshire, 35,915l.; Johnny Morgan, 4,067l.; Donovan, 55,154l.; Semolina, 12,686l.; Miss Butterwick, 8,179l.; Raeburn, 8,374l.; The Prize, 3,134l.; St.
The following week a man arrived and opened an agency for the sale of the mowers in the village, and gradually the excitement abated. Butterwick, however, has cut his grass with a sickle ever since.
Will not " Butterwick. "I wouldn't leave her a cent if I had millions. It'll do the old woman good to skirmish around for her living. Then she'll appreciate me." Gunn. "Your poor little children, too. Fatherless, orphaned, they will have no one to fill their famished mouths with bread, no one to protect them from harm.
Soon as I seen them vines of yourn I said to myself, Them vines wants a few dogs, and I concluded to put in the first day rakin' in all I could find. I'm goin' out again to-morrow, down the other road." But he didn't. Mr. Butterwick discharged him that night. He was too enthusiastic for a gardener, and Mr.
Eh?" he said in a finely careless tone. "I should think he was!" cried Pollyooly with enthusiasm. Mr. Reginald Butterwick looked still more earnestly at the sock and said: "One of those tall lanky chaps eh?" "He's tall, but he isn't lanky not a bit," said Pollyooly quickly. "He's tremendously big broad and thick as well as tall, you know. He's more like a giant than a man."
Butterwick is not a good judge of horses, but a brief while ago he thought he would like to own a good horse, and so he went to a sale at a farm over in Tulpehocken township, and for some reason that has not yet been revealed he bid upon the forlornest wreck of a horse that ever retained vitality.
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