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D led us into the middle of the street, and showed us a cross, which was paved into it, on a level with the rest of the road. This was the spot where Latimer and Ridley and another Bishop were martyred in Bloody Mary's time. There is a memorial to them in another street; but this, where I set my foot at nearly midnight, was the very spot where their flesh burned to ashes, and their bones whitened.
This is, if my heart was kid open, all that you could see in it at present, except the anxiety which is now almost over in regard to you. I will speak to Ridley when I go to town, but scolding increases my bile, and so to avoid it I sent that coachman who had like to have destroyed me this day sevennight out of my sight, and his horses, without seeing him.
I only met with it to-day, and I am not sure that it would have taken such a hold upon me had it not been for my concern about Mr. Ridley. "The writer says, 'In the treatment of drunkenness, we must go deeper than hospital or asylum work. This reaches no farther than the physical condition and moral nature, and can therefore be only temporary in its influence.
Much should we heed borders and kings if it had been a Ridley or a Graeme who had laid hands on them. However, he consented to the Prior's proposal, and the incongruous pair set out together, the sober-paced friar on the convent donkey, and Ringan on his shaggy pony, both looking to civilised eyes equally rough and unkempt.
"Brother Ridley is good, no doubt, and it is right to go and hear him I hain't disputed that but when he tries to bring our thoughts to the Lord, he has to do it through his own work, his writin', which he did himself with a steel pen.
One day, when he startled them with the usual abrupt dismissal, Olive did not go; instead, she laid down her work, and took his book, which was a ponderous volume of essays. "Now, Uncle Ridley, don't you want me to read to you?" "Read to me! God bless my soul! you read to me! Well, I never, I never did, to be sure; where's my snuff-box? you read to me?
"I am glad you think so," returned Colonel Ridley; "nothing pleases me more than to see my visitors eat heartily; help yourself, it does appear to me that one who has been riding all day would not require any artificial means of inducing an appetite." "Colonel," said Mrs. Ridley, "I suppose this is your first visit to the county?" "No, madame," replied Col.
Ridley. Mr. Ridley went alone. It was a cold and stormy night. The wind blew fiercely, wailing about the roofs and chimneys and dashing the fast-falling snow in its wild passion against the windows of the room in which his sick wife lay. Rest of body and mind was impossible, freedom from anxiety impossible. There was everything to fear, everything to lose.
Ridley was away all night, and that Mrs. Ridley, who was restless and feverish through the evening, became agitated and slightly delirious after twelve o'clock, talking about and calling for her husband, whom she imagined dying in the storm, that now raged with dreadful violence.
After all, he was not the object, and good Pere Bonami at first thought the day his own, when he found that almost all his arguments against Calvinism were equally impressed upon Berenger's mind, but the differences soon revealed themselves; and the priest, though a good man, was not a very happily-chosen champion, for he was one of the old-fashioned, scantily-instructed country priests, who were more numerous before the Jesuit revival of learning, and knew nothing of controversy save that adapted to the doctrines of Calvin; so that in dealing with an Anglican of the school of Ridley and Hooker, it was like bow ad arrow against sword.
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