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Updated: June 1, 2025


"What is the matter, my dear Ernest? You have not killed a man in a duel?" "No." "What then? Why are you going away, and whither?" "No matter; leave me in peace." "Friendly!" said Ferrers; "very friendly! And what is to become of me what companion am I to have in this cursed resort of antiquarians and lazzaroni? You have no feeling, Mr. Maltravers!"

"I thought so, by your hat; all politicians sport odd-looking hats: it is very remarkable, but that is the great symptom of the disease." "My hat! /is/ it odd?" said Ferrers, taking off the commodity in question, and seriously regarding it. "Why, who ever saw such a brim?" "Glad you think so." "Why, Ferrers?"

Send it on to your Aunt Phoebe; sorter make the old folks open their eyes oh? Well, seein' he's been to some expense fittin' up an entrance from the other street, we'll let him slide. But as to that d d old Frenchman Ferrers, in the next loft, with his stuck-up airs and high-falutin style, we must get quit of him; he's regularly gouged me in that ere horsehair spekilation."

9th. Up, and then to the office, where we met first since the plague, which God preserve us in! At noon home to dinner, where uncle Thomas with me, and in comes Pierce lately come from Oxford, and Ferrers. After dinner Pierce and I up to my chamber, where he tells me how a great difference hath been between the Duke and Duchesse, he suspecting her to be naught with Mr. Sidney.

Only when he spoke, and the smiling light beamed in his eye, could he be known for Sir Reginald Ferrers. He would have bent his knee, but Edward took his hand, and bowing his own bared head said, "It is we who should crave a blessing from you, holy Father, last defender of the sacred land." "Alas, my Lord," said Sir Raynald, as he made the gesture of blessing; "Heaven's will he done!

MALTRAVERS did not see Lady Florence again for some weeks; meanwhile, Lumley Ferrers made his debut in parliament. Rigidly adhering to his plan of acting on a deliberate system, and not prone to overrate himself, Mr. Ferrers did not, like most promising new members, try the hazardous ordeal of a great first speech.

"The scoundrels didn't have a team, and they wouldn't take the stuff far without other transportation than their own backs. Hello! What's in there?" Tom had detected some motions in a clump of brush. "Look out!" warned Jim Ferrers, bringing his rifle to "ready." But Tom darted straight into the brush. "Then this is where you are?" demanded Tom dryly.

"I cannot fancy anything of the sort," said Ferrers. . . . "And, depend upon it, the said gentlemen, at this hour of the night, unless they were on some piratical excursion for they were cursed ruffians, those old Greek colonists were fast asleep in their beds." "Did you ever write poetry, Ferrers?"

I've a little more hammering to do." Back of them stood the teamster, who had just come up with the horses. "Am I to take that stuff and dump it down the ravine?" he asked slowly. "If you do," retorted Ferrers heatedly, "I'll hammer in the top of your head, Andy! Reade, won't you pick out what you want for the site of the ore-dump. We've got some real ore at last!"

Now I'm going to drop all other business and find the fellow." "What for?" Tom inquired innocently. "What for?" echoed Jim, then added, ironically: "Why, I want to do the hyena a favor, of course." "If you go out to look for him, you're not going armed, are you?" Reade pursued. "Armed?" repeated Ferrers, with withering sarcasm. "Oh, no, of course not.

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