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Updated: September 20, 2025
"I am not going to cut away the masts. The jolly-boat wouldn't live a moment in this sea, and we must get the whale-boat overboard," answered the mate, as he went down into the waist, where the boat was locked up. "Here, Burns, cut away the lee bulward," he shouted to the only remaining seaman of the brig. "Give me the other axe," said Wallbridge. "I know how to use it." "Good!
Wallbridge was his name, I found, and he proved to be as intelligent as I could wish a merry little man, with a joke for all things, and a flow of words that was almost overwhelming. "Omega? Yes," chuckled the stout little broker, after he had assured himself of my financial standing. "But you ought to have bought this morning, if that's what you want.
Doddridge Knapp is the boy for making the market hum when he takes the notion. By George, we've had a picnic this week! And last Monday I thought everything was dead, too!" "Doddridge Knapp!" I exclaimed. "Is he in this deal, too?" Wallbridge looked at me in a little confusion, and mopped his head with comical abandon. Then he winked a most diabolical wink, and chuckled.
Wallbridge had had a handsome, refined accomplished son, familiar with the poets, to whom this money now belongs just as much as though he were here to claim it; though I hope, when he gets it, that he will not spend the whole or any part of it in champagne suppers. I see that we are perfectly agreed in this matter, and that you think the way I mention is the right way to do this sort of thing."
Mr. Redmond felt that he had been whipped in the argument; and he was very much dissatisfied with himself for the admission he had made in the supposed case, and very much dissatisfied with Leopold for the advantage he had taken of the admission. "Who was the feller that buried the money?" he demanded, feeling his way to another argument in favor of a division. "Mr. Wallbridge." "Who was he?"
At Winnipeg, on the 9th September, at a sitting of the full Court of the Queen's Bench of the Province of Manitoba, judgment was delivered in the appeal for a new trial for the prisoner Riel. His Lordship Chief Justice Wallbridge first delivered judgment.
Harry's vision of his mother coming into his room, shading her candle with her hand to see if he were asleep, passed away as a small gust came, shaking the canvas, for he was instantly alert with a certainty that the breeze had borne a strong rolling of musketry. "Bader, Bader!" he said. "Bader!" "Can't you shut up, you Wallbridge?" came Orderly Sergeant Gravely's sharp tones from the next tent.
"I thought he had quit the market." As I had never heard of Mr. Decker before that moment this was not exactly the truth, but I thought it would serve me better. "Decker out of it!" gasped Wallbridge, his bald head positively glistening at the absurdity of the idea. "He'll be out of it when he's carried out." "I meant out of Omega. Is he getting up a deal?"
"Don't get in the way of Lattimer or Eppner. Put on steam, too." "Two-forty on a turnpike road," said Wallbridge. And, refreshed by a minute of rest, he gave a prolonged bellow and charged frantically for a stout man in a white waistcoat who was doing the maniac dance across the hall. A moment later the clamor grew louder and the excitement increased.
Jack, I'm Harry! don't you know me? I'm Harry your brother Harry." The Southern soldier stared rigidly at the boy, seeming to grow paler with the recollections that he struggled for. "What's your name?" he asked very faintly. "Harry Wallbridge I'm your brother." "Harry Wallbridge! Why, I'm John Wallbridge. Did you say Harry? Not Harry!" he shrieked hoarsely. "No; Harry's only a little fellow!"
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