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Updated: June 15, 2025
The Welsh claim him, the Bretons, the Cornish, the Lowland Scotch. Cornwall, with Tintagel as an asset of faith, claims his birth; Somerset, with Cadbury on the river Camel, claims Camelot; and Glastonbury boasts of his grave. Of these claims, that of Cornwall is the most powerfully supported; there is not only Tintagel, but Kelly Rounds, Damelioc, and Cardinham.
"True! that after you had killed a chicken, the owner not only presented you with it, but undertook to cook it for you?" "Yes, sir." Mr. West's only comment on this affirmation was a deep sigh. Further examination failed to make Cadbury contradict himself; but to certain enquiries he politely declined to furnish an answer. "Was any boy with you at the time who can bear witness to your story?
"It'll be the old cat, likely." "Hush! I must stow this away till Pepper's been round," said Cadbury, hastily stuffing the bird into his own bed. There was not long to wait; Mr. Peace appeared almost before they were ready for him. Mr. Peace was the senior resident master, whose short temper had won for him the above nickname.
"And how many things have you done to them?" retorted Jack desperately, sighing as he felt the weakness of that argument. "Vick, will you hand Grey your india-rubber?" put in Cadbury. "There's a bit of his memory he hasn't rubbed out yet. I did as Hallett told us, and forgot everything at once. I've even forgotten my translation for to-morrow it's gone entirely.
True, there was something about "No eatables to be taken upstairs". But then the chicken had not been taken upstairs; it had come by a lift. Still, Jack could not quite quiet the little voice within. "No, I won't shock you with details," replied Cadbury mischievously. "Perhaps you wouldn't eat it if I did." "I'm not going to anyhow, thanks very much," returned Jack with sudden determination.
Of this church, Ralph Cudworth, the famous Cambridge philosopher, was once rector. At the S.E. of the church is Cadbury Court, a fine gabled Elizabethan mansion, with a curiously incongruous modern front on the S.
The other, Burgh Walls, on the Bristol side of the combe, was destroyed to make room for the present villas. A British trackway, communicating with Cadbury Camp, is said to have here crossed the river by a ford. From the edge of the cliff delightful glimpses may be obtained of the bridge and gorge. Leighland, a hamlet 5 m. S.W. of Williton.
Of these North Cadbury, Marston and Sandford claim the most attention. The first is a large and dignified Perpendicular building with finely carved tabernacles in the chancel and several interesting features, including a curious brass to Lady Magdalen Hastings. Close by is a beautiful old manor house.
And everyone of you who have listened and nodded to the March Hare's tale have added coal to the fire you might have quenched in a moment. And and and and " poor Jack was shaking and stammering with excitement, "what what if it had ended in " But there he sat down, leaving his sentence unfinished. Cadbury was the first to reply, and that was not at once.
"It got run over and killed in bicycling. I mean, I was bicycling." "Did you steal it, then, or buy it?" "The woman it belonged to gave it to me, sir." "After you'd run over it?" "After it was dead, sir." "And who cooked it?" "She did, sir." "Cadbury, Cadbury! how dare you put forward such a story as this? I can't believe a word of it." "It's true, sir."
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