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Fewster, Surgeon, of Thornbury, in this county, a gentleman perfectly well acquainted with the appearances of the cow-pox on the human subject: "William Morris, aged thirty-two, servant to Mr. Cox of Almondsbury, in this county, applied to me the 2d of April, 1798.
But again the sunny earth in front of them was crossed by fantastic wavering figures, the shadows of men and women. "There they are!" exclaimed Mrs. Elliot. There was a touch of peevishness in her voice. "And we've had such a hunt to find you. Do you know what the time is?" Mrs. Elliot and Mr. and Mrs. Thornbury now confronted them; Mrs.
The cool green light fell through the leaves of the tree, and there were soft crescents and diamonds of sunshine upon the plates and the tablecloth. Mrs. Thornbury, after watching them all for a time in silence, began to ask Rachel kindly questions When did they all go back? Oh, they expected her father.
In 1861 was published The Life of J.M.W. Turner, R.A., founded on letters and papers furnished by his friends and Fellow Academicians; by Walter Thornbury. In a more recent work, Haunted London , Mr. Thornbury has himself passed judgment upon his Life of Turner, pronouncing it to be 'a careless book, but still containing much curious, authentic, and original anecdote.
"When I think of the Greeks I think of them as naked black men," said Miss Allan, "which is quite incorrect, I'm sure." "And you, Mr. Hirst?" said Mrs. Thornbury, perceiving that the gaunt young man was near. "I'm sure you read everything." "I confine myself to cricket and crime," said Hirst.
When you go to bed to-night fold your hands so breathe slower and slower " He lay back with his hands clasped upon his breast, and his eyes shut, "Now," he murmured in an even monotonous voice, "I shall never, never, never move again." His body, lying flat among them, did for a moment suggest death. "This is a horrible exhibition, Mr. Hewet!" cried Mrs. Thornbury. "More cake for us!" said Arthur.
The clock marked a few minutes to the hour when a stout black figure passed through the hall with a preoccupied expression, as though he would rather not recognise salutations, although aware of them, and disappeared down the corridor which led from it. "Mr. Bax," Mrs. Thornbury whispered. The little group of people then began to move off in the same direction as the stout black figure.
As for himself, when he went to a party, as one was sometimes obliged to, from a wish not to give offence his niece, for example, had been married the other day he walked into the middle of the room, said "Ha! ha!" as loud as ever he could, considered that he had done his duty, and walked away again. Mrs. Thornbury protested.
"Before I had finished my studies, my uncle had been an admiral for some time. The year before I left Oxford, he married Lady Georgiana Thornbury, a widow lady, with one daughter.
Thornbury came in slightly in advance of Mrs. Wilfrid Flushing. "Mrs. Wilfrid Flushing," said Mrs. Thornbury, with a wave of her hand. "A friend of our common friend Mrs. Raymond Parry." Mrs. Flushing shook hands energetically. She was a woman of forty perhaps, very well set up and erect, splendidly robust, though not as tall as the upright carriage of her body made her appear.
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