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For the social side, see Traill, V., VI., and Cheney's Industrial and Social History of England. The Cambridge History of English Literature, Vols. Courthope's A History of English Poetry, Vol. Elton's A Survey of English Literature from 1780-1830, 2 vols. Herford's The Age of Wordsworth. XXII. of Vol. Hancock's The French Revolution and the English Poets.
Cantwell, of Kilfeacle, makes the suggestive announcement that "parents are already counting the potatoes they give their children." The good Rector of Skull, Dr. Robert Traill, writes to Lord Bernard with prophetic grief. "Am I to cry peace, peace, where there is no peace?
Then she lit a Virginian cigarette and walked out of the room. There were occasions, as he had said, when Traill met his sister. They were infrequent, as infrequent as he could make them. And they were seldom, if ever, at her house in Sloane Street. One evening, some three weeks or less after his parting with Sally, he took her out to dinner.
Her own days are memories, but, being French, she still lives in the romance of others. "Good evening," said Traill; "how's the business good?" "Mais, oui, Monsieur; les affaires vont assez bien." They climbed down the narrow little staircase, made narrower and almost impassable by the pots of evergreens placed for decoration upon some of the steps.
At the end of the day's work, as Ailie was dropping her quaint curtsy and giving her adored employer a shy "gude nicht," he had a sudden thought that made him call her back. "Did you ever give a bit dog a washing, lassie?" "Ye mean Bobby, Maister Traill? Nae, I didna." Her eyes sparkled. "But Tammy's hauded 'im for Maister Brown, an' he says it's sonsie to gie the bonny wee a washin'." "Weel, Mr.
He imagined he had found country innocence in London, and for the moment stood aghast at it; could not see that it was her trust in him, blindly, implicitly placed, against all knowledge of the world. He stood for a gentleman in her eyes that Apsley Manor, the late Sir William Hewitt Traill, C.B., they all helped to conjure the vision in her mind.
Then, with a lithe twist of his muscular body and a spring, he was on the ground, trembling, reproachful for the breach of faith, but braced for resistance. "Eh, you're no' going?" Mr. Traill put his hands in his pockets, looked down at Bobby admiringly, and sighed. "There's a dog after my ain heart, and he'll have naething to do with me. He has a mind of his ain.
Traill had told him Bobby had been sent back to the hill farm, but here he was, "perseestent" little rascal, and making some sort of bid for the man's favor. Mr. Brown took his pipe out of his mouth in surprised exasperation, and glowered at the dog. "Gang awa' oot wi' ye!"
That one minute had seemed interminable to Sally; yet she realized how small a speck of time it must have appeared to them. "Do you think they'll hit each other this time?" she whispered. "Well, let's hope so," said Traill. "It's pretty dull as it is. There isn't much sport in this sort of thing if you can't hit straight. Oh, one of them'll land a blow presently. They want warming, that's all."
The phial was then deposited in the cavity prepared for it in the stone, and carefully covered up with sand, when the masonic ceremony was concluded in the usual manner. The Rev. Walter Traill, minister of the parish, then offered up a most impressive prayer, imploring the blessing of heaven upon the intended purposes of the building, and then delivered the following address:
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