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Of his character as a friend, as a host, and as the centre of a literary circle, we have a picture almost peerless in social history. He seems to have presented in a very attractive form the combination rare now, though not rare in that age, especially among the great Puritan chiefs of practical activity and military valour with high culture and a serious interest in great questions.

Shortening their entrance through one of the windows, the trio found their host, already in evening dress. Bristow was idling on the hearth with no more immediate concern than a cigarette and the enjoyment of the crackling logs, unspoiled by other light. As the clatter of boots and spurs announced their coming, Van glanced up and schooled his face into a very fair counterfeit of severity.

"You see, Ledsam," his host went on, "that point driven now at that angle would go clean through the vital part of my heart. And it needs no force, either just the slow pressure of these two fingers. What did you say, Margaret?" he enquired, breaking off abruptly. The woman was seated upon the very edge of her chair, her eyes rivetted upon the dagger.

"As a bodyguard," repeated Gavin, not seeming to note the change in his host. "If you're in the habit of being set upon, often, as you were, this evening you'll be better off with a good husky chap to act as-" "Oh, that?" scoffed Milo, in ponderous contempt. "That was just some panhandler, who thought he might knock me over, from behind, and get my watch and wallet.

Through villages, and even through camps, Cuthbert rode fearlessly, and arrived, without having once been accosted, near the main camp of the Saracens, which extended for miles parallel to the sea. But at a distance of some three leagues beyond could be seen the white tents of the Christian host, and Cuthbert felt that the time of trial was now at hand.

The account of an expedition against Fort Christina deserves to be quoted in full, for it is an example of what war might be, full of excitement, and exercise, and heroism, without danger to life. We take up the narrative at the moment when the Dutch host, "Brimful of wrath and cabbage,"

"Methinks that thou art in a bad way, my lad." "More anon," said Babington. "Our host comes. Thy dinner is served, my lord." Francis was so absorbed in the thoughts engendered by the conversation that she had just heard that she forgot all about her character as page and her duties as such. She was recalled to herself by a sharp reprimand from her father: "Thy duty, Francis.

Mounted on a very tall but quiet horse, I accompanied my host every morning when he went over his farm, which was chiefly a grass farm. The house was infested with rats, and a masculine old maid, who was of the party, lived in such terror of them, that she had a light in her bedroom, and after she was in bed, made her maid tuck in the white dimity curtains all round.

Pardon me, my friend, if I say that it could be disbursed to much better advantage. Should my host come to Florence I should not dare to ask him to dinner, for we cannot afford to have these elaborate functions. If he came to my house he would have to dine en famille. Here you feast every night in the winter. Why? Every day is not a feast day!"

Something important, tell him." The message brought Lionel out. Thankful, probably, to get out. The playing the host with a mind ill at ease, how it jars upon the troubled and fainting spirit! Jan, disdaining the invitation to the drawing-room, had hoisted himself on the top of an old carved ebony cabinet that stood in the hall, containing curiosities, and sat there with his legs dangling.