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Updated: June 27, 2025
But their thoughts about themselves, and their joy at meeting in such peculiar circumstances, had to be repressed to some extent in the presence of their common friend Ralph Ritson alias Buck Tom for Charlie knew him only as an old school-fellow, though to Leather he had been a friend and chum ever since they had landed in the New World.
"I just mean that my friend and chum and old schoolfellow Ralph Ritson jovial, dashing, musical, handsome Ralph you remember him has got me a situation in California." "Ralph Ritson?" repeated Mrs Leather, with a little sigh and an uneasy glance at her daughter, whose face had flushed at the mention of the youth's name.
Ritson, entirely contrary to nautical etiquette, made no reply to the skipper's hail, but remained with his eye immovably glued to the tube for a full minute longer, when he gently closed the instrument and descended slowly to the deck. Arrived there, he walked up to Captain Leicester, and first glancing cautiously round to make sure that no one was within ear-shot, murmured in a low voice
Smith, you should deence; a feeshionable young man, like you I don't know what the young leedies will say to you." And the fair seducer laughed bewitchingly. "You are very good, Mrs. Dollimore," replied Mr. Smith, with a blush and a low bow; "but Mr. Ritson tells me it is not the thing to dance." "Oh," cried Mrs.
Ritson and Smith, "do you know who those gentlemen are?" "Extremely well!" replied my neighbour: "the tall young man is Mr. Ritson; his mother has a house in Baker-street, and gives quite elegant parties. He's a most genteel young man; but such an insufferable coxcomb." "And the other?" said I. "Oh! he's a Mr.
Memory may not be always faithful, but she is often surprisingly prompt. In the twinkling of an eye Shank Leather had crossed the Atlantic again and was once more in the drinking and gambling saloons the "Hells" of New York with his profoundly admired "friend" and tempter Ralph Ritson.
I had heard that Joseph Ritson was buried here, and while my sister, Miss Susan, lingered at the grave of her favorite poet, I took occasion to spy around among the tombstones in the hope of discovering the last resting-place of the curious old antiquary whose labors in the field of balladry have placed me under so great a debt of gratitude to him.
Ritson had made little alterations in the style of the passages he had conveyed, and most of these alterations were amendments, as Lucian was obliged to confess, though he would have liked to argue one or two points with his collaborator and corrector.
Ritson was a man endowed with almost superhuman irritability of temper, and he had a genius fertile in devising means of giving scope to its restless energies.
A stout, red-faced man, about thirty, with wet auburn hair, a marvellously fine waistcoat, and a badly-washed frill, now joined Messrs. Ritson and Smith. "Ah, Sir Ralph," cried Smith, "how d'ye do? been hunting all day, I suppose?" "Yes, old cock," replied Sir Ralph; "been after the brush till I am quite done up; such a glorious run.
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