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Updated: June 20, 2025
Coaxings had availed nothing. Juanita Sterling scowled a perfunctory thank-you to Mrs. Nobbs, who handed her a long box. She had come to hate those long boxes. "I wish he'd keep his old flowers in his greenhouse!" she muttered disdainfully after the door was well shut. She gazed on the box with a sigh. Nevertheless, she untied it with hurrying fingers.
It was not with the senseless casks or the inanimate liquor that poor John Nobbs waged war that night; it was with a real fiend who, in days gone by, had many a time tripped him up and laid him low, who had nearly crushed the heart of his naturally cheerful little wife, who had ruined his business, broken up his home, alienated his friends, and, finally, driven him into exile a fiend from whom, for many months, under the influence of "the pledge," he had been free, and who, he had fondly hoped, was quite dead.
Mrs Lynch said she was a jewel, and that was extraordinary praise from the strapping widow, who seldom complimented her sex, whatever she may have felt. Mrs Welsh said she was a "dear, pritty creetur'," and laughter-loving little Mrs Nobbs, the wife of a jovial harum-scarum blacksmith, pronounced her a "perfect darling."
I was walking pretty fast, and as I came up behind them and was wondering which way I'd go by, you know the sidewalk is narrow there, a light struck across the woman's face, and I saw it was Mrs. Nobbs. I didn't know the man. Has she relatives here?" "A brother, I think, a bachelor brother." "Tall, is he?" "Yes." "This man was. Probably it was he. I had on my sneaks that's why they didn't hear me.
MR. WILTON. "In a Bermuda paper of August, 1848, there is an interesting letter from a school-master named Nobbs, which is so replete with information, that I will read it all to you, as it is not so remarkable for its length as its interest:
Thereafter, life on the Lonely Island flowed as happily as ever for many years, with the exception of a brief but dark interval, when a scoundrel, named Joshua Hill, went to the island, passed himself off as an agent of the British Government, misled the trusting inhabitants, and established a reign of terror, ill-treating Nobbs, Buffett, and Evans, whom for a time he compelled to quit the place.
You could wet it out the next morning." Miss Sterling shook her head with a wee smile. "I would if I dared, but I don't. If Miss Sniffen weren't there to see, Mrs. Nobbs would be, and nothing escapes her eyes. No, 't would be too much risk." "Maybe it would," Polly admitted, and then paused to listen. "It's three o'clock and I must go.
Nobbs, to whom the early Pitcairners are indebted for so much, carried on the work of John Adams so well and so piously that he was sent home to England, ordained a clergyman of the Established Church, returned to Pitcairn, and then accompanied the emigrants to Norfolk Island, where he died about ten years ago. Mr. Nobbs had a very curious history, which we reprint from the Rev.
By the time Nelson Randolph, president of the June Holiday Home, appeared in the doorway, what he saw was a well-appointed bedroom, a little blue-clad lady demurely reading a small volume, and Polly hovering near. With a perfunctory good-morning to Miss Sterling, and a genial handshake for Dr. Dudley's daughter, he passed with Mrs. Nobbs to the southwest corner of the apartment.
God bless her whoever she is! for I do believe I should have been dead by now if I hadn't got the rest and the breakfast." The woman shivered again as she spoke, and drew the thin shawl still closer, for a sharp east wind was blowing over the jetty at the time. "Come with me; you are cold. I know Nobbs Lane well. We have a shed and fire here on the jetty to shelter people while waiting.
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