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Updated: June 9, 2025
Eighteen months before my visit to the Big Horn range, the present Lord Lonsdale, together with a large party, was hunting upon the same ground, and at that time the country, being new to British sportsmen, was undisturbed. The bears were so numerous and unsophisticated that the party bagged thirty-two, and game of all kinds indigenous to the locality was in the superlative.
She heard him as one hears music far away, only the accents and the climaxes coming clear. He asked her questions, and she was conscious of answering them: How long had she known Mr. Ayling? He and her husband had been boyhood friends; she had met him first at the time of her marriage to Major Lonsdale. Had they kept up the friendship during all these years? No, she had heard nothing of Mr.
Captain Heywood Lonsdale has on several occasions proved the Ightfield strain to be staunch and true, as witness the doughty deeds of Duke of that ilk, and the splendid success he achieved at recent grouse trials in Scotland with his Ightfield Rob Roy, Mack, and Dot, the first-named winning the all-aged stake, and the others being first and third in the puppy stake. Mr.
"All that you really know of this matter," asked Mr. Millington-Bywater, "is that you chanced to turn up Lonsdale Passage, saw a man lying on the pavement and a ring close by, and that, being literally starving and desperate, you snatched up that ring and ran away as fast as you could?" "Yes that is all," asserted Hyde.
Viner," he said, "is that this is probably one of the last chapters in the history of the Lonsdale Passage murder. For if you find this woman and the men who are undoubtedly her accomplices, you will most likely have found, in one or other of them, the murderer of John Ashton!" "Precisely!" agreed Viner. "Precisely!" The official rose from his seat and turned to the door.
She heard herself speaking: "Naturally, I it's something of a shock...." "Indeed I understand." Again she caught the sound of her own voice, as if it belonged to some one else, "I suppose it was his heart." "He was known to have a bad heart?" "Yes; it has been weak for years." "I wonder, Mrs. Lonsdale, if I may ask a favor of you. You know, of course, that Mr.
In a few moments there came in, almost blown through the door by a violent gust of wind and rain, a short, stout, ruddy person, who, when the landlord had relieved him of his hat and coat, stood looking about for a vacant seat. The landlord came toward the table where sat Mrs. Lonsdale and Mr. Burke. "Sorry, sir," he said; "it's the only place left." "May I?" asked the stranger, and at Mrs.
Lonsdale reposed in his accustomed bunk by the stove, but poor Mr. Hopkins had to sleep on the floor. He must have been glad Kate and I stayed only one night. The fourth morning found us blithely hitting the trail in renewed confidence and spirits. We parted from our kind friends in the shack with mutual regret. Mr. Hopkins gave us a haunch of jumping deer and Mrs.
Wordsworth's paternal feelings, at any rate, were, as has been said, exceptionally strong; and the impossibility of remaining in a house filled with sorrowful memories rendered him doubly anxious to obtain a permanent home. "The house which I have for some time occupied," he writes to Lord Lonsdale, in January 1813, "is the Parsonage of Grasmere.
Forty days were consumed in a short march of eighty miles; and when the decisive battle was fought, though the main body had reached the left bank of the Ribble near Preston, the rear-guard, under Monroe, slept in security at Kirkby Lonsdale.
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