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Updated: May 31, 2025
The next morning, George Stephenson was walking in the gardens of Drayton Manor before breakfast, when Sir William Follett accosted him, and sitting down in an arbor asked for the facts of the argument.
By JOSHUA R. GIDDINGS. Columbus, Ohio: Follett, Foster, & Co. 1858. A cruel story this, Mr. Giddings tells us. Too cruel, but too true. It is full of pathetic and tragic interest, and melts and stirs the heart at once with pity for the sufferers, and with anger, that sins not, at their mean and ruthless oppressors.
Great allowances ought undoubtedly to be made for him, on the grounds above suggested; and, with reference to the former case, another consideration occurs, which ought to have been already more distinctly adverted to. Sir William Follett had a right to regard his elevation to the peerage as a matter almost of course.
Follett began to gather twigs and sage-brush, and presently had a blaze in front of them. In the light of the fire the little man could see their faces, and he became suddenly coherent, smiling at them in the old way. "Why have you come so far in the night?" he asked Prudence, taking one of her cool hands between his own that burned. "But, you poor little father!
They were necessarily on the qui vive to the very latest moment. Some short time before he was compelled to relinquish practice, a certain counsel was engaged with him as junior in a case before the Privy Council, which it was deemed of great moment that Sir William Follett should be able to attend to.
There was no idle moment from early morning until high noon; and yet, though they were very busy, they achieved absolutely nothing. In the afternoon Prudence donned her own sombrero, and they went to the cañon to fish. From a clump of the yellowish green willows that fringed the stream, Follett cut a slender wand.
When morning brought the gray light into the little room, the haunted man fell into a doze, and Follett, gently unclasping the hands from his arm, arose and went softly out. He was cramped from sitting still so long, and chilled, and his arm hurt where the other had gripped it. He pulled back the blue woollen sleeve and saw above his wrist livid marks where the nails had sunk into his flesh.
In the silence that followed, the funeral-drum came booming in upon them over the ridge, and once they saw an Indian from the encampment standing on top of the hill to look down at their fire. Then the little man spoke again. "You will go with him," he said to Prudence. "He will take you out of here and back to your mother's people." "She's going to marry me," said Follett.
As it is of the last importance either to secure his splendid services, or deprive the enemy of them, such a counsel and such, it need hardly be said, was Sir William Follett is continually made the subject of mere speculation by clients who are content to take the chance of obtaining his attendance, with the certainty of securing his absence as an opponent.
Every morning that Sir William Follett rose from his bed, he had to contemplate a long series of important and pressing engagements filling up almost every minute of his time not knowing where or before what tribunal he might be at any given moment of the day and often wholly ignorant of what might be the nature of the case he would have to conduct, against the most able and astute opponents who could be pitted against him, and before the greatest judicial intellects of the kingdom: aware of the boundless confidence in his powers reposed by his clients, the great interests entrusted to him, and the heavy pecuniary sacrifices by which his exertions had been secured.
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