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Updated: May 17, 2025
"We do nothing but play lasquenet and tennis, and go to the assembly, and follow Miss Dolly into Gill's, the pastry-cook's, where she goes every morning to take a jelly. The ubiquitous Wells does not give us much chance. He writes 'vers de societe' with the rest, is high in Mr. Marmaduke's favour, which alone is enough to damn his progress. I think she is ill of the sight of him.
We saw none of the natives belonging to the range, although their smokes were a very short distance away. Sladen Water was always a favourite spot with me, and we rested a day at it for old association's sake. On the 14th of July we left the place, and travelled along my former route, via Gill's Pinnacle, and all the other watering-places mentioned in my preceding narrative.
These old strips of tissue paper have a strange interest; they reflect the old-fashioned theatre and audiences; and the Pickwickian names of the characters, so close after the original appearance, have a greater reality. Here, for instance, is a programme for Mr. Gill's benefit, on January 19, 1839, when we had "The Pickwickians at half-price."
On the Queen's birthday we bade it a last farewell, and departed for the east and civilisation, once more. We now had the route that Mr. Tietkens and I had explored in March that is to say, passing and getting water at all the following places: Gill's Pinnacle, the Ruined Rampart, Louisa's Creek, and the Chirnside. The country, as I have said before, was excellent and good for travelling over.
The young minister looked up from his pudding. He was very spiritual, but he had had poor pickings in his previous boarding place, and he could not help a certain abstract enjoyment over Miss Gill's cooking. "You would certainly not be afraid, Miss Lippincott?" he remarked, with his gentle, almost caressing inflection of tone.
Its attractive power, in fact, is nearly half that of its primary, while it emits only 1/10000th of its light. Sirius itself, on the other hand, possesses a far higher radiative intensity than our sun. It gravitates admitting Sir David Gill's parallax of 0·38" to be exact like two suns, but shines like twenty.
"What's the idea of this here?" demanded Merton Gill's neighbour in aggrieved tones. "Ssh!" cautioned Merton. "It's Mass or something like that." And they bent in unison to this noon-tide devotion. When this was done Henshaw bustled into the group. "I want about a dozen or fifteen good types for the cafe," he explained to his assistant.
Sufferings and dejection of the horses. Worrill's Pass. Glen Thirsty. Food all gone. Review of our situation. Horse staked. Pleasure of a bath. A journey eastward. Better regions. A fine creek. Fine open country. King's Creek. Carmichael's Crag. Penny's Creek. Stokes's Creek. A swim. Bagot's Creek. Termination of the range. Trickett's Creek. George Gill's range. Petermann's Creek. Return.
When, therefore, I say that Eleanore Leavenworth is irretrievably injured by this gill's death " "Death? What do you mean? Death!" The burst was too natural, the tone too horror-stricken for me to doubt for another moment as to this woman's ignorance of the true state of affairs. "Yes," I repeated, "the girl you have been hiding so long and so well is now beyond your control.
'Oh yes; this 'Thorn Fortress' is Val's, and 'A York and a Lancaster Rose' is mine, but whenever any one gives us a book, if it is not a weeny little gem like Gill's 'Christian Year, or my 'Little Pillow, or Val's 'Children in the Wood, we bring it to mother, and if it is nice, we keep it here, for every one to read.
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