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Updated: June 7, 2025
A true-born child of town, he would have found the real country quite unendurable; in his doggy rambles about Dulwich he always preferred a northerly direction, and was never so happy as when sitting in the inn-parlour amid a group of friends whose voices rang the purest Cockney. "I'm going to have a look at the bow-wows," he replied to Mrs. Bubb.
In passing from the quiet academy of Dulwich Grove to the public school of Harrow, the change must have been great to any boy to Byron it was punishment; and for the first year and a half he hated the place.
I found nobody there when I arrived but Lord Russell, the son of the Marquess of Tavistock. We are old House of Commons friends; so we had some very pleasant talk, and in a little while in came Allen, who is warden of Dulwich College, and who lives almost entirely at Holland House. He is certainly a man of vast information and great conversational powers.
She could never do all her religion asked. Her whole life would have to come to pieces; nothing of it would remain, and she entirely lost heart when she considered in detail the sacrifices she would have to make. She saw herself at Dulwich with her father, giving singing lessons, attending the services, and living about St. Joseph's.
When they returned home she found a letter from him on the table, and her face clouded as she read his letter, for it announced an intention to call when he came to town, and to avoid his visit she thought she would stop in Dulwich. But if she stayed over Saturday, she would have to go to Mass on Sunday. Last Sunday she escaped by pleading indisposition.
In short, everything was getting tangled up together, and there would be no chance of disentangling the threads in this chapter. It is barely fifty years since England refused the gift of the pictures that now constitute the Dulwich Gallery.
Again Dunbar held up his hand. "No doubt you mean well," he said; "but damme! begin at the beginning! Who are you, and what have you come to tell us?" "'Oo are I? 'Ere's 'oo I ham!" wheezed the cabman, proffering a greasy license. "Richard 'Amper, number 3 Breams Mews, Dulwich Village"... "That's all right," said Dunbar, thrusting back the proffered document; "and last night you had taken Mr.
"Dulwich is not six miles from here. We can drive there easily in three-quarters of an hour. And three-quarters of an hour to get back. They won't begin to rehearse the second act before one. It is a little after ten now." "Then good-bye." Lady Duckle followed her to the front door and stood for a moment to admire the beauty of the morning.
Again she wondered at her choice, seeking in herself the reason that impelled her to do what she was doing. She could not say that she liked living with her father in Dulwich, nor did she look forward to giving singing lessons, and yet that was what she was going to do.
Lord Camelford had his remains buried under an ash tree that grew on one of the mountains in Switzerland; and Sir Francis Bourgeois had a little mausoleum built for him in the college at Dulwich, where he once spent a pleasant, jovial day with the masters and wardens.
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