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Updated: May 17, 2025
"No," said Mr. Dubobwig. "Mr. Stubbs is the victim of a FATAL ATTACHMENT." I was a free man when I went out of the Court; but I was a beggar I, Captain Stubbs, of the bold North Bungays, did not know where I could get a bed, or a dinner. As I was marching sadly down Portugal Street, I felt a hand on my shoulder and a rough voice which I knew well. "Vell, Mr. Stobbs, have I not kept my promise?
"No, my dear; you write the note. You know Mrs. Creamer every bit as well as I," protested Mrs. Nailor, "and I have already asked for at least a dozen. There are Mrs. Wyndham and Lady Stobbs, who were here last winter; and that charming Lord Huckster, who was at Newport last summer; and I don't know how many more so you will have to get the invitation for Mr. Keith."
It is a noteworthy fact, which can be best mentioned here, that the first newspaper in Three Rivers was the Gazette, published by one Stobbs, in 1832, more than two centuries after the settlement of that town, which has always been in the midst of the most thickly settled district of Lower Canada. In 1827, Mr.
"That's wot it is, Ted, an' no mistake," said Stobbs. "I had a'most forgot about the war and the Mounseers." "Ah then, it's not goin' to attack us ye are, is it? Never!" exclaimed Teddy in surprise, observing that two boats had been lowered from the schooner's davits into which men were crowding. The question was answered in a way that could not be misunderstood.
Towards the afternoon, Teddy Maroon wiped the perspiration from his heated brow and looked abroad upon the sea, while the large hook of his crane was descending for another stone. An expression of intense earnestness wrinkled his visage as he turned suddenly to Stobbs, his companion at the windlass, and exclaimed: "Sure that's a Frenchman over there."
"Vere is dat ornament to his Majesty's service?" I came in from the back shop, where I was polishing the boots, with one of them in my hand. "Look, my dear," says he, "here is an old friend of yours, his Excellency Lort Cornvallis! Who would have thought such a nobleman vood turn shoeblack? Captain Stobbs, here is your former flame, my dear niece, Miss Grotty.
Miss Crutty kissed him; mamma made him a curtsy, and papa made him a bow; and Dr. Snorter, the parson, seized his hand and shook it most warmly: then came my turn! "Vat!" says he. Sare and madam, you should be broud of soch a sonn. And you my niece, if you have him for a husband you vill be locky, dat is all. Vat dink you, broder Croty, and Madame Stobbs, I 'ave made your sonn's boots! Ha ha!"
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