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Updated: June 11, 2025
Geoffry Hamlyn and The Hillyars and the Burtons have obvious faults, but in most respects they are the highest, because the least artificial, expression of Kingsley's powers. A consideration of some of their more noticeable qualities will perhaps afford the clearest answer to the question which opens this essay.
"Why, to London, to be sure. Give us ano " "You keep off, sir, or you'll catch it. What took you there?" "Went to see Stockbridge and Hamlyn off." "Then, they are gone?" she asked. "Gone, sure enough. I was the last friend they'll see for many a long year." "How did Stockbridge look? Was he pretty brave?" "Pretty well. Braver than I was. Mary, my girl, why didn't ye marry him?"
On his return in 1858 he devoted himself industriously to literature, and wrote a number of novels of much more than average merit, including Geoffrey Hamlyn , The Hillyars and the Burtons , Ravenshoe , and Austin Elliot . Of these Ravenshoe is generally regarded as the best.
Hipgrave; and a stage direction might add: "Business with brows, as before." "'Poulos'?" I repeated. "Could it be Constantinopoulos?" asked Hamlyn, with a nervous deference to my Hellenic learning. "It might, conceivably," I hazarded, "be Constantine Stefanopoulos." "Then," said Hamlyn, "I shouldn't wonder if it was. Anyhow, the less you see of him, Wheatley, the better. Take my word for that."
Again they met; Richard felt the point of Hamlyn's lance glint against his breastplate, glide down, enter, make its way into his flesh; but at the same instant his lance was pushing, driving, bearing on Hamlyn before him; the sheer force in his Plantagenet shoulders was telling now, the very pain seemed as it were to add to the energy with which he pressed on on, till the hostile spear dropped from his own side, and Hamlyn was borne backwards over the croup of the staggering horse, till he fell with crashing ringing armour upon the ground.
A series of episodes, they observe, supply the place of a plot in The Recollections of Geoffry Hamlyn; the central motive of The Hillyars and the Burtons is an impossible story of a young woman's self-sacrifice; and the Thackerayan mannerisms in Ravenshoe are an offensive blemish upon an otherwise fine novel.
But just now he was engaged in returning a bow which our neighbor at the next table had bestowed on him. The lady there had risen already, and was making for the door. The man lingered and looked at Hamlyn, seeming inclined to back up his bow with a few words of greeting.
Now, during all the time above mentioned, I, Geoffry Hamlyn, have happened to lead a most uninteresting, and with few exceptions prosperous existence. I was but little concerned, save as a hearer, in the catalogue of exciting accidents and offences which I chronicle.
Hamlyn liked the man, too, and was as kind to him as could be, giving him the best he had, and even at last consenting to his marriage with Miss Dinah herself, though against his own feelings. Coppinger had given out that he was a Dane of noble birth and great wealth, who had run away to escape marrying a lady he disliked.
It was not possible to remain and argue. A tent was a dangerous place for secret conferences, and Hob Longbow could only growl, "As you will, Sir. Now nor you nor any one else can say I have not done my charge." "Alack, alack!" sighed Richard, "would that, my honour once redeemed, Hamlyn might make an end of me!
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