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Updated: May 29, 2025
Hetty Maria Clapp's jest got home from Bunkertown, that's tew mile from Roxbury, 'n' she told Miss Lucas that Miss Perrit, whose sister's son keeps a grocer's store to Roxbury, told that Mr.
Reed he was completely their dupe, having been himself honestly convinced of the identity of Clapp's client.
The conversation of the young people soon turned upon their trifling, foolish, unfortunate cousin, Mrs. Hilson; and this was a subject, upon which both brother and sister agreed entirely. Before long, they drove up to Mr. Clapp's door, and were received by the lawyer himself, who had just returned with his client; this latter individual was also seen lounging in the office. Mr.
His account agrees entirely with the portrait of the boy, as it now exists at Wyllys-Roof; the arms and hands are long, the fingers slender, nails elongated; as you well know, Mr. Clapp's client is the very reverse of this his hands are short and thick, his fingers what, in common parlance, would be called dumpy. I was struck with the fact when I first saw him in the street.
Had anything to eat?" Barclay shook his head. "No; we was laying off to get coffee and sinkers at Clapp's Mine, if we ever get there." "'Coffee and sinkers'," said Adair. "That doesn't sound very uplifting. Sit down here and help me out with my contract." Barclay did it, rather unwillingly.
Like their friends, they believed it a plot of Mr. Clapp's; and yet his daring to take so bold a step seemed all but incredible. When some hours' consideration had made the idea rather more familiar to the minds of our friends, they began to look at the consequences, and they clearly saw many difficulties and vexations before the matter could be even favourably settled; but if this client of Mr.
Let it not be forgotten, however, that total abstinence from spirituous liquors is not the one great duty of man; intemperance is not the only sin to which human nature is inclined. Mr. Clapp's speech was the last for the evening. "I wish you joy, Mrs. Clapp," said Mrs. Tibbs, leaning forward from the seat behind the lawyer's pretty little wife, and nodding as she spoke.
"Don't want 'em," says one. "Be off," says another fiercely. Three-and-sixpence has been spent in vain the screens retire to Miss Clapp's bedroom, who persists in thinking them lovely.
Clapp's brass plate was still on the door, at the knocker of which Dobbin performed a summons. A buxom-looking lass of sixteen, with bright eyes and purple cheeks, came to answer the knock and looked hard at the Major as he leant back against the little porch. He was as pale as a ghost and could hardly falter out the words "Does Mrs. Osborne live here?"
E. S. Carmen, editor of the "Rural New Yorker:" "Apples Early Harvest, Gravenstein, Jefferis, Baldwin, Mother, Spitzenburgh. Pears Seckel, Tyson, Clapp's Favorite, Bartlett, Beurre d'Anjou, and Dana's Hovey. Cherries Black Tartarian, Coe's Transparent, Governor Wood, Mezel, Napoleon Bigarreau." The authorities appear to differ.
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