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Updated: May 4, 2025
You are a clergyman and a scholar surely you can guess what made the life endurable to me?" Mr. Brock remembered the well-worn volumes which had been found in the usher's bag. "The books made it endurable to you," he said. The eyes of the castaway kindled with a new light. "Yes!" he said, "the books the generous friends who met me without suspicion the merciful masters who never used me ill!
The chronology gathered from Genesis has been supposed to place the date of man's creation at a point far less remote. Usher's calculation, attached to the authorized English Version of the Bible, sets this date at 4004 B.C. The discussion of these questions of Scriptural chronology belongs to theology and biblical criticism.
Smith, very much puzzled by the usher's extraordinary independence. "Yes, sir, I have." "Indeed!" said Socrates, amazed. "Where do you go?" Then was Mr. Crabb's time for triumph. "I have received this morning an offer from the city of New York," he said. "From New York! Is it in a school?" "No, sir; I am to be private tutor in a family." "Indeed! Do you receive as good pay as here?"
The first warning of the affliction that was near at hand had followed close on the usher's departure in December, and had arisen out of a circumstance which dwelt painfully on the rector's memory from that time forth. But three days after Midwinter had left for London, Mr.
On page 66 we have mentioned Usher's instance of twins born at the one hundred and thirty-ninth day weighing each less than 11 ounces; Barker's case of a female child at the one hundred and fifty-eighth day weighing 1 pound; Newinton's case of twins at the fifth month, one weighing 1 pound and the other 1 pound 3 1/2 ounces; and on page 67 is an account of Eikam's five-months' child, weighing 8 ounces.
He tried again and again, and yet again, to write the farewell words; he tried, till the floor all round him was littered with torn sheets of paper. Turn from them which way he would, the old times still came back and faced him reproachfully. The spacious bed-chamber in which he sat, narrowed, in spite of him, to the sick usher's garret at the west-country inn.
That one of his caste should refuse a glass of "Usher's Best," and be willing to brave the burst of a southwest monsoon to take it to any one child, mother, or wife was incredible. "Drink it," I said roughly. "You will need it before you get to the station. Boy, bring me my waterproof and an umbrella. Now out you go. We'll see whether this 'little gal' is male or female, seven or seventy."
Brock laid aside the testimonial, suspecting that the schoolmaster had purposely abstained from writing his address on it, with the view of escaping all responsibility in the event of his usher's death. In any case, it was manifestly useless, under existing circumstances, to think of tracing the poor wretch's friends, if friends he had.
Suddenly a tall figure, wearing a doublet of cloth of silver, gray velvet breeches, gray mantle, and gray silk stockings, strode rapidly through the gallery, and curtly commanded the usher to announce him. While awaiting the usher's return, he stood still, stroking now his light mustaches, and now his fine, curly blonde beard, which was little more than delicate down on his chin.
Something resembling rotten wood formed a deposit at the bottom of his glass, while the servers were handing round dishes of prunes with their thumbs washing in the juice. Now and again, amid the rattle of plates, the rasping voice of the reader, a lad of seventeen, reached the usher's ears.
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