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Updated: June 18, 2025
There was a good deal done, and a great burden lifted off an humble heart nay, two! before Dr. Renton thought of going home. There was a patient gained, likely to do Dr. Renton more good than any patient he had lost. There was a kettle singing on the stove, and blowing off a happier steam than any engine ever blew on that railroad whose unmarketable stock had singed Dr. Renton's fingers.
She had a gaping wound on, I think, the right side of her back, and died the next day." Dr. Renton's address is 110 Hill Street, Garnet Hill, Glasgow. The young man who took down the record is named E. de Niemira, a British subject. He made the report of what we had seen to the Bryce Committee. "Why do the Germans do these things? It is not war.
He was, however, rather slow on the ball, and was often sent to the right-about by Messrs. Gow and Watson. Like Mr. M'Kechnie, he does not seem to have played in many of the Renton's first-class matches, and his name is not found among Internationalists. ~A. M'Intyre.~ Mr.
Lottie blandly persisted. "I promised to let Mr. Plumpton know." "Yes, so as to get a chance to write to him," said Boyne. "I guess when he sees your spelling!" "Momma! Do wake up! What time does our steamer sail?" A light of consciousness came into Mrs. Renton's eyes at last, and she sighed gently. "We're not going, Lottie." "Not going! Why, but we've got the tickets, and I've told "
M'Kechnie's name in juxtaposition with Renton's crack half-back, I must honestly confess I am like Cuddie Headrigg "Between the deil and the deep sea." I can only remember seeing him twice. I come to the conclusion, then, that he must have been a substitute, and if I am wrong in my supposition I shall be glad to stand corrected.
Since Renton had not patented his furnace in Great Britain, Martien's use of his earlier knowledge of Renton's work and of his experience at Bridgend in an attempt to upset Renton's priority is a curious and at present unexplainable episode.
The spectre glided slowly to the wall, and stood as if it were thinking what, with Dr. Renton's rule of action, was to become of the greatest good of the smallest number. Nathalie sat on her father's knee, thinking only of George Feval, and of his having been starved and grieved to death. "Father," said Nathalie, softly, "I felt, while you were reading the letter, as if he were near us.
There was something in her Indian mother's voice she had never heard before at least, not since she was a little child and swung in a deerskin hammock in a tamarac-tree by Renton's Lodge, where the chiefs met and the West paused to rest on its onward march. Something of the accents of the voice that crooned to her then was in the woman's tones now.
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