United States or Guernsey ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"In memory of seventy-two seamen who perished in Plymouth harbor on the 26 and 27 days of December, 1778, on board the private armed Brig. Gen. Arnold, of twenty guns, James Magee of Boston, Commander, sixty of whom were buried on this spot."
Peters," he cried, leaping from bed and running into the other room, where the hermit was persuading a faint blaze, "I've an idea. You can cook, can't you?" "Cook?" repeated the hermit. "Well, yes, I've had to learn a few things about it, living far from the rathskellars the way I do." "The very man," rejoiced Mr. Magee. "You must stay here and cook for me for us."
"I reckon you might call it that." "And then you can send her a copy of the paper, and follow it up in person." "A good idea," commented Billy Magee. "At first glance, yes," studied Peters. "But, on the other hand, it would be the death knell of my post-card business, and I'm calculating to go back to Baldpate next summer and take it up again.
"Far be it from me to quarrel with a man who smokes as good cigars as you do but there's something I haven't quite doped out. That is who's trespassing, me or you?" "My right here," said Mr. Magee, "is indisputable." "It's a big word," replied the other, "but you can tack it to my right here, and tell no lie. We can't dispute, so let's drop the matter.
Magee's aspect was decidedly pleasing. Young Williams, who posed at the club as a wit, had once said that Billy Magee came as near to being a magazine artist's idea of the proper hero of a story as any man could, and at the same time retain the respect and affection of his fellows. Mr. Magee thought he read approval in the lone eye of blue.
Bland opened wide his usually narrow eyes, and ran his hand thoughtfully over his one day's beard. Professor Bolton blinked his astonishment. Mr. Magee smiled. "I, for one, am delighted to hear it," he said. "My name," went on the girl, "is Mary Norton. May I present my mother, Mrs. Norton?" The older woman adopted what was obviously her society manner. Once again Mr.
"Pardon me," remarked the professor at last, "if I do not answer. In this very essay on on liars, Montaigne has expressed it so well. 'And how much is a false speech less sociable than silence. I am a sociable man." "Of course," smiled Magee. He stood looking down at the frail old scholar before him, and considered. Of what avail a scuffle there in that chill room?
Whilst so engaged, his attention was attracted by two emus, which resolved themselves, respectively, into Captain Royce and Mick Magee the latter being an old mate of his own, accidentally killed on the Jim Crow, about fifteen years before.
The little professor of Comparative Literature stepped forward and stood pompously before Magee. "One moment," he remarked. "Before you steal this money in front of our very eyes, I want to inform you who I am, and who I represent here." "This is no time," replied Magee, "for light talk on the subject of blondes." "This is the time," said the professor warmly, "for me to tell you that Mr.
He told me about you. I help him a lot around the inn, and we arranged I was to stop in and start your fire, and do any other little errands you might want done. I thought we ought to get acquainted, you and me, being as we're both literary men, after a manner of speaking." "No?" cried Mr. Magee. "Yes," said the Hermit of Baldpate. "I dip into that work a little now and then.
Word Of The Day