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"But, of course, you are not a coward, too." "You surprise me with your moderation, sir." Gatty. "Then you will waive your rank you are a lord, I believe-and give me satisfaction." Ipsden. "My rank, sir, such as it is, engages me to give a proper answer to proposals of this sort; I am at your orders." Gatty. Ipsden.
You rend and read, and are at Edinburgh, fatigued more or less, but not by the journey. Lord Ipsden was, therefore, soon installed by the Firth side, full of the Aberford. The young nobleman not only venerated the doctor's sagacity, but half admired his brusquerie and bustle; things of which he was himself never guilty. As for the prescription, that was a Delphic Oracle.
Have you any idea what we are agreeing to differ about?" Gatty. "The question does you little credit, my lord; that is to add insult to wrong." He went off hurriedly, leaving Lord Ipsden mystified.
Christie. Lizzie Johnstone. "Oh! but ye're a fearsome lass." Christie. "Wha'll give me a sang for my bonny yarn?" Lord Ipsden, who had been an unobserved auditor of the latter part of the tale, here inquired whether she had brought her book. "What'n buik?" "Your music-book!" "Here's my music-book," said Jean, roughly tapping her head. "And here's mines," said Christie, birdly, touching her bosom.
"M'lord, lordship hasn't any vices," replied Saunders, with dull, matter-of-fact solemnity. "Lady Barbara makes the same complaint," thought Lord Ipsden. "It seems I have not any vices, Dr. Aberford," said he, demurely. "That is bad; nothing to get hold of. What interests you, then?" "I don't remember." "What amuses you?" "I forget." "What! no winning horse to gallop away your rents?" "No, sir!"
La Johnstone is one of Nature's duchesses, and she has made me know some poor people that will be richer than the rich one day; and she has taught me that honey is to be got from bank-notes by merely giving them away." Among the objects of charity Lord Ipsden discovered was one Thomas Harvey, a maker and player of the violin.
Were I to add "Beauty" to the list, such men and women as go by fact, not by conjecture, would hardly contradict me. The fortunate man is he who, born poor, or nobody, works gradually up to wealth and consideration, and, having got them, dies before he finds they were not worth so much trouble. Lord Ipsden started with nothing to win; and naturally lived for amusement.
She was a connection of Lord Ipsden's, but they had not met for two years, when they encountered each other in Paris just before the commencement of this "Dramatic Story," "Novel" by courtesy. The month he spent in Paris, near her, was a bright month to Lord Ipsden.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Lord Ipsden to his antagonist; "I am going to take a liberty a great liberty with you, but I think you will find your pistol is only at half cock." "Thank you, my lord; what am I to do with the thing?" "Draw back the cock so, and be ready to fire?" "So?" Bang!
A YOUNG viscount with income and person cannot lie perdu three miles from Edinburgh. First one discovers him, then another, then twenty, then all the world, as the whole clique is modestly called. Before, however, Lord Ipsden was caught, he had acquired a browner tint, a more elastic step, and a stouter heart. The Aberford prescription had done wonders for him.
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