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The noble lord who so pathetically lamented that the devil was not so strong in him as he used to be forty years before, has an echo in my regrets that the student is not as young in me as when these scenes were enacting of which I write. I was sitting at breakfast with Webber, a few mornings after the mess dinner I have spoken of, when Power came in hastily. "Ha, the very man!" said he.

Webber, the former of whom was as well qualified to describe with the pen, as the latter was to represent with his pencil, whatever might occur worthy of observation. In this excursion, the gentlemen, among other objects that called for their attention, found a Morai.

"I wish you could keep him away from Dresser. The converted socialist is likely to be a bad lot." "Socialist!" Miss M'Gann exclaimed disdainfully. "He isn't any socialist. He's after a rich girl." Sommers left Miss M'Gann with a half-defined purpose of finding Webber and inducing him to give up the vain hope of rivalling the editor of The Investor's Monthly.

"And the whole camp sure will want to come," added another. "'Ceptin' Miss Doc," suggested Webber. "'Ceptin' Miss Doc," agreed the previous speaker. "Then why not have the tree down yonder, into Webber's shop, same as church?" asked Field. "We could git the whole camp in there." This was acclaimed a thought of genius.

Byng and Hollis, if they got away, would head for the rendezvous to meet Alan and take the cash from him. If it went off properly the whole thing should take less than fifteen seconds, from the time Webber threw the switch to the time Alan drove away with the truck. If it went off properly. The seconds crawled by. The time was 1235, now.

Wolfert Webber had now carried home a fresh stock of stories and notions to ruminate upon. His mind was all of a whirl with these freebooting tales; and then these accounts of pots of money and Spanish treasures, buried here and there and every where about the rocks and bays of this wild shore, made him almost dizzy. "Blessed St.

Webber followed the doctor to the door, whispered something in his ear, to which the other replied, "Very well, I will write; but if your father sends the money, I must insist " The rest was lost in protestations and professions of the most fervent kind, amidst which the door was shut, and Mr. Webber returned to the room.

This was broadened and deepened and illustrated by the several stories of the "Money Diggers," of "Wolfert Webber" and "Kidd the Pirate," in "The Tales of a Traveller," and by "Dolph Heyliger" in "Bracebridge Hall."

Among the many peculiar tastes which distinguished Mr. Francis Webber was an extraordinary fancy for street-begging. He had, over and over, won large sums upon his success in that difficult walk; and so perfect were his disguises, both of dress, voice, and manner, that he actually at one time succeeded in obtaining charity from his very opponent in the wager.

But the flitter can, with luck." They both looked at Kieran. "He's the important one," Webber said. "If a couple of us could get him through " "No," said Paula. "We couldn't. As soon as they caught the ship and found the flitter gone, they'd be after him." "Not to Sako," said Webber. "They'd never figure that we'd take him to Sako." "Do I have a word in this?" asked Kieran, between his teeth.