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Updated: June 17, 2025


Gabriel Parsons, as they drove to Norwood together‘you shall have an opportunity to make the disclosure to-night, and mind you speak out, Tottle.’ ‘I will—I will!’ replied Watkins, valorously. ‘How I should like to see you together,’ ejaculated Mr. Gabriel Parsons.—‘What fun!’ and he laughed so long and so loudly, that he disconcerted Mr. Watkins Tottle, and frightened the horse.

Watkins Tottle incurred the sin of wishing that the ashes of the Reverend Charles Timson were quietly deposited in the churchyard of his curacy, wherever it might be. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ interrupted Parsons, who had just appeared with clean hands, and a black coat, ‘it’s my private opinion, Timson, that yourdistribution societyis rather a humbug.’

‘Why, I really thought she looked as if she would rather have seen somebody else,’ replied Tottle. ‘Pooh, nonsense!’ whispered Parsons again‘it’s always the way with the women, young or old. They never show how delighted they are to see those whose presence makes their hearts beat. It’s the way with the whole sex, and no man should have lived to your time of life without knowing it.

"By all that is contemptible "By all his patriotism, his affection for the army and the navy by his flow of eloquence, and his strength of argument by the correctness of his statements, and the precision of his arithmetic by his sum tottle, and by Joey H -e, himself "Appear!" "'Tis well!

Watkins Tottle,’ said Parsons. ‘It’s the gentleman that come in this morning, Jem,’ screamed a voice from the top of the kitchen-stairs, which belonged to a dirty woman who had just brought her chin to a level with the passage-floor. ‘The gentleman’s in the coffee-room.’

The lady rose, and made a deep courtesy; Mr. Watkins Tottle made a bow. ‘Splendid, majestic creature!’ thought Tottle. Mr. Timson advanced, and Mr. Watkins Tottle began to hate him. Men generally discover a rival, instinctively, and Mr. Watkins Tottle felt that his hate was deserved.

Why?—because your subscribers wouldn’t see their names flourishing in print on the church-doorthat’s the reason.’ ‘Really, Mr. Parsons, I hope you don’t mean to insinuate that I wish to see my name in print, on the church-door,’ interrupted Miss Lillerton. ‘I hope not,’ said Mr. Watkins Tottle, putting in another word, and getting another glance.

I thought he was dead; but no, he was alive, and there appeared to be nothing the matter with him. He jumped up, and putting his hand to his chest, and fixing upon me the most earnest gaze you can imagine, exclaimed—’ ‘Pudding here,’ said Mrs. Parsons. ‘Oh! it’s no use,’ exclaimed the host, now rendered desperate. ‘Here, Tottle; a glass of wine. It’s useless to attempt relating anything when Mrs.

Parsons left the room, shut the door carefully after her, and Mr. Watkins Tottle was left alone with Miss Lillerton. For the first five minutes there was a dead silence.—Mr. Watkins Tottle was thinking how he should begin, and Miss Lillerton appeared to be thinking of nothing. The fire was burning low; Mr. Watkins Tottle stirred it, and put some coals on. ‘Hem!’ coughed Miss Lillerton; Mr.

‘Have I done it!’ said Watkins Tottle. ‘HushI’m going to the clergyman.’ ‘No!’ said Parsons. ‘How well you have managed it!’ ‘Where does Timson live?’ inquired Watkins. ‘At his uncle’s,’ replied Gabriel, ‘just round the lane. He’s waiting for a living, and has been assisting his uncle here for the last two or three months.

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