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Updated: June 28, 2025
And he slapped his great hand upon his great thigh, and said: "Who will go down over Lewthwaite Crag, and see if that boy is alive? Oh, that I were twenty years younger, and I would go down myself!" And so he would have done, as well as any sweep in the country. Then he said: "Twenty pounds to the man who brings me that boy alive!" And as was his way, what he said he meant.
It is very beautiful and picture-like. While we sat here, S happened to refer to the ballad of little Barbara Lewthwaite, and J began to repeat the poem concerning her, and the gardener said that "little Barbara" had died not a great while ago, an elderly woman, leaving grown-up children behind her.
"Over Harthover? and down Lewthwaite Crag? Art sure thou art not lying?" "Why should I?" said Tom, and leant his head against the post. "And how got ye up there?" "I came over from the Place;" and Tom was so tired and desperate he had no heart or time to think of a story, so he told all the truth in a few words. "Bless thy little heart! And thou hast not been stealing, then?" "No."
So down over Lewthwaite Crag he went; a very smart groom he was at the top, and a very shabby one at the bottom; for he tore his gaiters, and he tore his breeches, and he tore his jacket, and he burst his braces, and he burst his boots, and he lost his hat, and what was worst of all, he lost his shirt pin, which he prized very much, for it was gold; so it was a really severe loss; but he never saw anything of Tom.
Now among the lot was a little groom-boy, a very little groom indeed; and he was the same who had ridden up the court, and told Tom to come to the Hall; and he said "Twenty pounds or none, I will go down over Lewthwaite Crag, if it's only for the poor boy's sake. For he was as civil a spoken little chap as ever climbed a flue."
Besides, I wouldn't pull them anyway. There was little Grace Lewthwaite, she was always gathering the poor, innocent flowers just to fling them on the dusty road to be trodden and trampled to pieces; well, before she was twelve years old, she faded away too. Perhaps even the prayers of mangled flowers may be heard by the merciful Creator." "You do give me such turns, Charlotte."
Children, of course, only want description when it is really a part of the story, as when Tom crosses the moor, descends Lewthwaite Crag, or travels from brook to river and from river to sea. As to how a story should be told, opinions differ. It must be well told with a well-modulated voice and with slight but effective gesture.
"Over Harthover? and down Lewthwaite Crag? Art sure thou are not lying?" "Why should I?" said Tom, and leant his head against the post. "And how got ye up there?" "I came over from the Place;" and Tom was so tired and desperate he had no heart or time to think of a story, so he told all the truth in a few words. "Bless thy little heart! And thou hast not been stealing, then?" "No."
So fading upon me, from disuse, have been the beauties of Nature, as they have been confidently called; so ever fresh and green and warm are all the inventions of men and assemblies of men In this great city. I should certainly have laughed with dear Joanna. Give my kindest love and my sister's to D. and yourself. And a kiss from me to little Barbara Lewthwaite. Thank you for liking my play!
It is very beautiful and picture-like. While we sat here, S happened to refer to the ballad of little Barbara Lewthwaite, and J began to repeat the poem concerning her, and the gardener said that "little Barbara" had died not a great while ago, an elderly woman, leaving grown-up children behind her.
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