United States or Tonga ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He dwelt at Ernley, at a noble church on Severn's bank. He read many books, and it came to his mind to tell the noble deeds of the English. Then he began to journey far and wide over the land to procure noble books for authority. He took the English book that Saint Bede made, another in Latin that Saint Albin made, and a third book that a French clerk made, named Wace.
Severn's room; Scott Seagrave went to quarters at the West Gate, and Duane was driven forth and a cot-bed set up for him in his studio at Hurryon Lodge.
The bench of justices were remarkably warm over it, neglecting the judicial business, and showing themselves at the Buck's Head windows in purple and scarlet streamers. "I will be with you in ten minutes," said Mr. Carlyle, withdrawing his arm from Lord Mount Severn's, as they approached his office, "but I must go in and read my letters."
"She must, of course, find it with me," replied his lordship; "and, I should hope, a better one than this. With all these debts and duns at his elbow, Mount Severn's house could not have been a bower of roses." "I fancy she knew nothing of the state of affairs; had seen little, if anything, of the embarrassments," returned Mr. Carlyle. "Nonsense!" said the peer. "Mr.
Above my desk is a small shelf of my best-loved books, loved now; perhaps I shall destroy them next year, having absorbed all their nutriment, even as now, 'I burn all I used to worship. I worship all I used to burn. Under the bookrack is a copy of Severn's last sketch of Keats, the vanquished, dying head of the slain poet, more brutally killed than the world counts.
Carlyle; "you are trespassing upon a stranger's property. This house is not Lord Mount Severn's; he sold it some time back." They knew better. Some laughed, and said these tricks were stale. "Listen, gentlemen," rejoined Mr. Carlyle, in the plain, straightforward manner that carried its own truth.
Being Lord Vane or it may be more correct to say, being the Earl of Mount Severn's son, and under control, he was debarred from dancing and jeering after the yellow candidate, as the unwashed gentry of his own age indulged in, but his tongue and his feet itched to do it. Mr.
"Mrs. Severn's mother died on Friday," said the housekeeper solemnly. The children paused, serious for a moment in the presence of the incomprehensible. "We're sorry," said Geraldine slowly.... "When is Kathleen coming back?" "Perhaps to-night, dearie " Scott impatiently detached the schoolroom globe from its brass axis: "I'm sorry, too," he said; "but I'm tired of lessons. Now, Mrs.
"Why, Crumpets!" cried Wrench, "what in the world have we got here?" while Burton reached both hands back behind him so as to get a good grip at the lapels of Severn's jacket, and began to dance with delight. "Why, it's a cricket-bat!" cried Wrench. "Hanging over the side of the bucket by a string tied round the handle!"
The bees droned around the honeysuckle that billowed over the little iron fence about a family burying lot, and once Lynn Severn's laugh not her regular laugh, but a kind of a company polite one echoed lightly across to his ears and his face dropped into his hands. He almost groaned.
Word Of The Day