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Updated: May 2, 2025
The warden's countenance registered honest horror; but Mr. Wagg's simulated horror was even more convincing in its intensity. "He's gone! He's under the whole of it!" Wagg dropped the dipper and collapsed on the ground. "My nerve is all busted, Warden. I sha'n't ever have any more grit to be a guard. I ask to be discharged. Here and now I beg to be fired!"
By chance, or by choice, New College cannot claim the honour of numbering among its fellows him who wrote the "Night Thoughts." On the 13th of October, 1703, he was entered an independent member of New College, that he might live at little expense in the warden's lodgings, who was a particular friend of his father's, till he should be qualified to stand for a fellowship at All Souls.
It had been gradually removed or destroyed by time and plunder of its materials: no traces of it are left, except on the west side of the Warden's garden, a postern-gate which he maintains was used by the friars for various purposes. Another memorial of the Priory survived till 1800 the phrase of "doing Austins."
Mr. William Hyde was discharged from Deer Lodge Penitentiary a changed man. That was quite in line with the accepted theory of criminal jurisprudence, the warden's discipline, and the chaplain's prayers. Yes, Mr.
His day was over, and Warden's succession to the post seemed an inevitable sequence. As Hill sardonically remarked, there was no other competitor for the chieftainship of that band of cutthroats. For some reason he had postponed his departure till after Hill's official visit to Trelevan. He and Warden shared the largest house in the miners' colony in Barren Valley.
Jordan was chastened, nerveless. The pencil dropped from his fingers and he slacked in his chair, watching Lawler with open mouth. Warden's face had grown dead white. The hatred he bore for this man glared forth from his eyes, but the hatred was tempered by a fear that gripped him.
He bowed again, noting that she looked intently at him, her eyes still wide and filled with something he could not fathom. And when halfway up the stairs he looked back, curious, subtly attracted to the woman, he saw her standing in the doorway, ready to go out, watching him over her shoulder. He laughed and opened the door of Gary Warden's office. Warden was sitting at his desk.
Warden's face grew poisonously malevolent. He laughed, hoarsely. "Bah!" he jeered. "We'll say I lied. What of it! I didn't want to antagonize you, then. Only a fool is truthful at all times." He laughed again, mockingly. "I'm truthful when I want to be."
Here lived, with a host of retainers, the famous "belted Will" Lord William Howard, son of the fourth Duke of Norfolk who in the early part of the seventeenth century finally brought peace to the border by his judicious exercise for many years of the Warden's powers. It is of this famous soldier and chivalrous knight, whose praises are even yet sung in the borderland, that Scott has written
They went and sat a good deal in the softening evenings among the infants and dotards of Latin extraction in Washington Square, safe from all who ever knew them, and enjoyed the advancing season, which thickened the foliage of the trees and flattered out of sight the church warden's Gothic of the University Building.
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