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Updated: June 12, 2025
I was going to look at certain mansions, in which the Lords Baltimore used to live, and the patriotic Marylander, if he have faith enough, may identify them by their arches of gray stone at the first corner on his right in coming into the place from Holborn.
The high chair was set back against the wall, and a gap left between that of the young girl and her nearest neighbor's on the right. But the nest morning, to our great surprise, that good-looking young Marylander had very quietly moved his own chair to the vacant place.
He took the young Marylander to task for going to the Church of the Galileans, where he had several times accompanied Iris of late. I am a Churchman, the young man said, by education and habit. I love my old Church for many reasons, but most of all because I think it has educated me out of its own forms into the spirit of its highest teachings.
The young Marylander, who was born and bred to that mode of worship, had introduced her to the chapel, for which he did the honors for such of our boarders as were not otherwise provided for. I saw them looking over the same prayer-book one Sunday, and I could not help thinking that two such young and handsome persons could hardly worship together in safety for a great while.
This ugly way of hitting is the great trick of the French gavate, which is not commonly thought able to stand its ground against English pugilistic science. These are old recollections, with not much to recommend them, except, perhaps, a dash of life, which may be worth a little something. The young Marylander brought them all up, you may remember.
The Little Gentleman was on his hobby, exalting his own city at the expense of every other place. I have my doubts if he had been in either of the cities he had been talking about. I was just going to say something to sober him down, if I could, when the young Marylander spoke up. Come, now, he said, what's the use of these comparisons?
"Meet a brand-new Marylander," Scotty announced. Rick started to reply, then stopped as a party of three entered the dining room and were shown to a table nearby. He knew one of the men, but he couldn't remember where they had met. "Scotty," he said softly, "look around at the group that just came in. Who's the man in the plaid jacket? I know him, but I can't remember."
The craft, squat to the water and railed on either side, was in the charge of an old negro. Clustered in the middle of the boat appeared a tall Marylander in blue jeans, two soldiers in blue cloth, and a small darky in a shirt of blue gingham.
Something had happened to change his plan of life, and he was now studying engineering and architecture in Boston. When the youth made the short remark which drew my attention to him, the little deformed gentleman turned round and took a long look at him. Good for the Boston boy! he said. I am not a Boston boy, said the youth, smiling, I am a Marylander.
Among them was a repeater, belonging to our young Marylander. If you, my reader, will please to skip backward, over this parenthesis, you will come to our conversation, which it has interrupted. It a'n't the feed, said the young man John, it's the old woman's looks when a fellah lays it in too strong. The feed's well enough.
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