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Pee-wee Harris observed as he lay on his back, peering up among the branches. Half a dozen scouts, including Roy Blakeley and Hervey Willetts, were sprawling under the tree waiting for supper, on the second afternoon after Hervey's triumph. Waiting for supper was the favorite outdoor sport at Temple Camp.
He followed them up to where they emerged from the lower reaches of the mountain. Then he followed them back, aided where they were dim by the deeper prints of Hervey's shoes. Skinny sat upon the log waiting for him. On the side of the log nearest the mountain the tracks turned and went sideways along the log for perhaps a yard to a point where the log was low and somewhat broken.
See also The Secret History of Mama Oello, 1733. A.C. Ewald, Sir Robert Walpole , 444. A.C. Ewald, Sir Robert Walpole, 450. Lord Hervey's Memoirs, London, 1884, II, 143. The Unfortunate Princess, 18, etc. Memoirs of a Certain Island, II, 249. J. Nichols, Literary Anecdotes, III, 649, records the tradition that Chapman was the publisher of Mrs. Haywood's Utopia.
Proceedings against John Higgins, Esq., Warden of the Fleet, Thomas Bainbridge, Esq., Warden of the Fleet, Richard Corbett, one of the Tipstaffs of the Fleet, and William Acton, Keeper of the Marshalsea Prison: 3 George II, A.D. 1729. Lord Hervey's bitter lines introduce us to Jonathan Swift. Nature, together with the character of his time, made the great Dean a misanthropist.
Vincent to address her, he was being given a fair trial whether he could win her love. They had heard reports of Clarence Hervey's speedy marriage with an heiress, Miss Hartley, and found them confirmed by a letter Lady Delacour received from him.
"Yes, mother," replied the girl, a little impatiently; "but you don't seem to see the seriousness of what he charges " "That I do, miss. Am I wantin' in understandin'? George is as innocent as an unborn babe, so what's the odds along o' Hervey's accusin'? It don't amount to a heap o' corn shucks. That boy ain't responsible, I tell ye. He's like to get locked up himself in a luny 'sylum.
Clarence Hervey's packet contained a history of his connexion with Virginia St. Pierre. To save our hero from the charge of egotism, we shall relate the principal circumstances in the third person.
And he turned into the darkness which closed over him at once like the falling of a blanket. "You won't follow him?" she pleaded. He shook his head and a moment later, under the touch of his own hunting knife which she drew, the rope parted and freed his arms. At the same instant she heard the hoofs of Hervey's horse crashing through the underbrush down the mountain side.
Robb, unharmed by Hervey's shot, came forward, and Sarah and Prudence followed in his wake. But Iredale waved the ladies back. "Stand away, please," he said quietly. "The dog had finished him before I got my shot in to save him. The brute has literally torn his throat out." Then he looked over at the dead hound. "It's awful; I wonder what made the dog turn upon him?"
But Tom Slade said nothing. And it was not in Hervey's nature to make any claims or boasts. He soon forgot the episode, as he forgot almost everything else that he had done and got through with. Glory for its own sake was nothing to him. He had climbed the tree and got his scout suit torn into shreds and that was satisfaction to him.
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