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Updated: May 4, 2025
"You must confess yourself in the wrong here, Hector," said his uncle, "although I know no man less willing to give up an argument; but you were in England at the time, and Mr. Lovel was probably concerned in the affair." "I am speaking to a military man, then?" said M'Intyre; "may I inquire to what regiment Mr. Lovel belongs?" Mr. Lovel gave him the number of the regiment.
I thought of printing my Essay, which is signed Pacificator; but there was no need, as the matter was taken up by the town-council of the borough." "But I assure you, my dear sir, there is nothing between Captain M'Intyre and me that can render such respectable interference necessary." "See it be so; for otherwise, I will stand second to both parties."
"Hector," said his uncle to Captain M'Intyre, in the course of their walk homeward, "I am sometimes inclined to suspect that, in one respect, you are a fool." "If you only think me so in one respect, sir, I am sure you do me more grace than I expected or deserve." "I mean in one particular par excellence," answered the Antiquary.
Ferrers discontinued dining with his accustomed host; and resumed his old habit of riding up to the casino, every evening, on his Barbary ass, to eat oranges and talk to the Consul's daughter. 'I suppose you know Florence, Mr. Ferrers? said Major M'Intyre. Mr. Ferrers bowed. 'St. Peter's, of course, you have seen? said Captain Ormsby. 'But have you seen it during Holy Week? said the major.
That of Lovel was more true, and M'Intyre reeled and fell. The grasp of old Ochiltree, who had appeared on the scene, roused Lovel to movement, and leaving M'Intyre to the care of a surgeon, he followed the bedesman into the recesses of the wood, in order to get away by boat the following morning.
M'Intyre out in the wrong for saying what he did. The old man didn't say much more, only shook his head, saying 'Ah, ye're a grand laddie, and buirdly, and no that thrawn, either like ye, Dick, ye born deevil, looking at me. 'But I misdoot sair ye'll die wi' your boots on. There's a smack o' Johnnie Armstrong in the glint o' yer e'e. Ye'll be to dree yer weird, there's nae help for't.
The legal officer, confronted with him of the military, grasped with one doubtful hand the greasy bludgeon which was to enforce his authority, and with the other produced his short official baton, tipped with silver, and having a movable ring upon it "Captain M'Intyre, Sir, I have no quarrel with you, but if you interrupt me in my duty, I will break the wand of peace, and declare myself deforced."
I am apt to think you would suffer the pledge to be forfeited. If you could give me sufficient security, indeed" At this moment the Antiquary and Captain M'Intyre entered the apartment. "Good morning to you, gentlemen," said the magistrate; "you find me toiling in my usual vocation looking after the iniquities of the people labouring for the respublica, Mr.
The ages of the two seemed to be about equal somewhere about five or six-and-twenty; in stature they were also nearly the same; but, if there was any difference between them in this particular, it was in favour of M'Intyre, who stood nearly six feet in height. M'Leod might be an inch shorter.
"He is an excellent old gentleman, I must own," replied M'Intyre, "and I am enraged at myself when I chance to offend him; but then his eternal harangues upon topics not worth the spark of a flint his investigations about invalided pots and pans and tobacco-stoppers past service all these things put me out of patience. I have something of Hotspur in me, sister, I must confess."
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