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Updated: July 18, 2025
Oh, you needn't look so questioning, gentlemen; here's old Cap Saltmarsh can say whether I know what I'm talking about or not. I showed him the tree." Captain Saltmarsh "Come, now, cat your anchor, lad you're heaving too taut.
Carvel distributed blankets to the old men and red cloaks to the old women; how the deerhound followed Hermione like Mary's little lamb, and how the worthy keeper, James Grubb, did not quite catch the wicked William Saltmarsh in the act of setting a beautiful new brass wire snare at a particular spot in the quickset hedge between the park and the twelve-acre field, but was confident he would catch him the next time he tried it, how Moses Skingle, the sexton, fell out with Mr.
Oh, you needn't look so questioning, gentlemen; here's old Cap Saltmarsh can say whether I know what I'm talking about or not. I showed him the tree." Captain Saltmarsh "Come, now, cat your anchor, lad you're heaving too taut.
Saltmarsh was sixty, tall, erect, powerfully built, with coal-black hair and whiskers, and he had a well tanned complexion, and a gait and countenance that were full of command, confidence and decision. His horny hands and wrists were covered with tattoo-marks, and when his lips parted, his teeth showed up white and blemishless.
One thirty-two fifty, I'm bid. Now, Saltmarsh!" But Bill only laughed. Then he picks up another plate, looks at it, and laughs again. "Good day, Brown," says he. "Sorry I can't stop." And off he puts towards his horse and buggy. Eddie Small was watching him. Milo, being on the other side of the pulpit, hadn't noticed so partic'lar. "Who's that?" asks Eddie, suspicious. "Does he know antiques?"
Does he think they're fakes?" I didn't know, so I shook my head. Small fidgetted, looked at Peter, and then run after Saltmarsh. Milo had just raised the bid. "One hundred and thirty-three" hollers Peter, fetching the tea chest a belt. "One thirty-four do I hear? Make it one thirty-three fifty. Fifty cents do I hear? Come, come! this is highway robbery, gentlemen. Mr. Small where are you?"
Of this kind of indifferency to all competing forms of external worship, and even of doctrine, combined with either a mystical and dreamy piety, or a wildly-fervid enthusiasm, Dell and Saltmarsh, among the army- chaplains, seem to have been the most noted exponents; but it was really a modification of that which is already known to us as the Seekerism of Roger Williams.
But this Eaton had died in 1641, aged about 66, and leaving but an Antinomian book or two, including "The Honeycomb of Free Justification;" and the leading Antinomians were new men. One of them was Mr. John Saltmarsh, a Cambridge graduate, and minister in Kent, afterwards well-known as an, army-preacher and pamphleteer; another was "one Randall who preaches about Spittal Yard."
There were army-chaplains, it is true, and some of them, such as Peters, Dell, and Saltmarsh, great favourites; but, on the whole, the regular cloth was in disrepute: those who belonged to it were spoken of as the Levites or priests by profession; the need for such a profession was voted obsolete; and any man was held to be as good for the preaching office as any other, if he had the preaching gift.
And the old sailor-man is full of sound religion, and is as devoted a student of the Bible and misquoter of it as you can find anywhere. I don't know a better man or kinder hearted old soul than Saltmarsh, although he does swear a little, sometimes." "He seems to be perfect. I want to know him, Barrow." "You'll have the chance. I guess I hear them coming, now.
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