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Updated: May 5, 2025
There's nothing for it but to wait for better times, instead of setting up independent, insubordinate action." "You are the man to leave venerable abuses undisturbed!" "The cure is worse than the disease!" "There spoke the Corporation!" "Ah! it was not the way you set to work in Poonshedagore."
"Not competing. He had been ready a year before, and had gained it, or I should have had no chance. Poor Spencer! what would I not give to see him, or hear of him?" "The last was how long ago?" said Ethel. "Six years, when he was setting off, to return from Poonshedagore," said Dr. May, sighing. "I gave him up; his health was broken, and there was no one to look after him.
There's for you, Spencer!" "Bless me, Dick! I thought myself a young man!" "What! with hair of that colour?" said Dr. May, looking at his friend's milk-white locks. "Bleached by that frightful sickly season at Poonshedagore, when I thought I was done for. But you! you the boy of the whole lot!
Though he now and then talked of seeing America, or of going back to India, in hopes of assisting his beloved mission at Poonshedagore, these plans were fast dying away, as he formed habits and attachments, and perceived the sphere of usefulness open to him.
Self-examination notes the symptoms and combats them; self-contemplation does as I did when I was unstrung by that illness at Poonshedagore, and was always feeling my own pulse. It dwells on them, and perpetually deplores itself. Oh, dear! this is no better what a wretch I am. It is always studying its deformities in a moral looking-glass."
In fact, he said fainting was the most natural and justifiable measure, under the circumstances. "How many human creatures do you keep there?" he asked. "Forty-seven to-day," said Mary proudly. "I shall indict you for cruelty to animals! I think I have known it hotter at Poonshedagore, but there we had punkahs!" "It was very wrong of me," said Ethel.
No, I shall perhaps go off to America, the only place I have not seen yet, and I more than half engaged to go and help at Poonshedagore." "Better order your coffin then," muttered Dr. May. "I shall try lodgings in London, near the old hospital, perhaps and go and turn over the British Museum library." "Look you here, Spencer, I have a much better plan.
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