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Updated: June 20, 2025
Meeting with Frank Moore, my Lord Lambeth's man formerly, we, and two or three friends of his did go to a taverne; but one of our company, a talking fellow, did in discourse say much of this Act against Seamen, for their being brought to account; and that it was made on purpose for my Lord Sandwich, who was in debt 100,000l. and hath been forced to have pardon oftentimes from Oliver for the same: at, which I was vexed.
Westgate's sense a sense possibly morbidly acute conspicuous by their absence. "I don't want to express myself in a manner that you dislike," said Bessie Alden; "but I don't know why you should have so many theories about Lord Lambeth's poor mother. You know a great many young men in New York without knowing their mothers." Mrs. Westgate looked at her sister and then turned away.
"My dear Bessie, you are superb!" she said. "One thing is certain," the young girl continued. "If I believed I were a cause of annoyance however unwitting to Lord Lambeth's family, I should insist " "Insist upon my leaving England," said Mrs. Westgate. "No, not that. I want to go to the National Gallery again; I want to see Stratford-on-Avon and Canterbury Cathedral.
What a long slow crescendo that is, mile after mile, with the houses crowding closelier, the multiplying succession of church towers, the architectural moments, the successive bridges, until you come out into the second movement of the piece with Lambeth's old palace under your quarter and the houses of Parliament on your bow!
For the most part it consists of old dwellings, which probably were the houses of people above the working class in days when Lambeth's squalor was confined within narrower limits. The doors are framed with dark wood, and have hanging porches. At the end of the street is a glimpse of trees growing in Kennington Road.
There Lambeth's supper was preparing, to be eaten on the spot, or taken away wrapped in newspaper. Stewed eels and baked meat pies were discoverable through the steam of other windows, but the fried fish and potatoes appealed irresistibly to the palate through the nostrils, and stood first in popularity. The people were of the very various classes which subdivide the great proletarian order.
And to speak of Lord Lambeth's expression of intellectual repose is not simply a civil way of saying that he looked stupid.
"I say, Woodley," he cried, "here's Miss Alden wants to go to the Rosherville Gardens!" Willie Woodley looked a little blank; he was caught in the fact of ignorance of an apparently conspicuous feature of London life. But in a moment he turned it off. "Very well," he said, "I'll write for a permit." Lord Lambeth's exhilaration increased. "Gad, I believe you Americans would go anywhere!" he cried.
She had a kind of ideal of conduct for a young man who should find himself in this magnificent position, and she tried to adapt it to Lord Lambeth's deportment as you might attempt to fit a silhouette in cut paper upon a shadow projected upon a wall.
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