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Updated: May 24, 2025
He wouldn't take me, having scruples against betting except when he had the answer in his pocket. But he went away cackling joyful, and that night Van Wedderburn arrived. Van was a substantial-looking old relic, built on the lines of the Boston State House, broad in the beam and with a shiny dome on top.
Mr. Crewe by no means underestimated this claim upon the community, and he had of late been declaring that he was no summer resident. Wedderburn was his home, and there he paid his taxes. Undoubtedly, they were less than city taxes. Although a young man, Mr. Crewe was in all respects a model citizen, and a person of many activities.
"Off with his head!" exclaimed Wedderburn, who at the same instant reached the spot. The bloody mandate was readily obeyed; and Home, taking the bleeding head in his hand, cut off the flaxen tresses, and tied them as a trophy to his saddle-bow. The body of the Chevalier de la Beauté was rudely buried on the spot where he fell.
Austen awoke from his dream in this enchanted borderland to find himself in a long line of wagons filled with people in their Sunday clothes, the men in black, and the young women in white, with gay streamers, wending their way through the rear-entrance drive of Wedderburn, where one of Mr.
I told him about my troubles at the Old Home House and he thought 'twould be a great joke for me to travel back there like a lady. He's awful fond of a joke Mr. Van Wedderburn is. "'But that man? I gasps. 'Your husband? That's what you said he was. "'Yes, says she, 'he is. We've been married 'most six months now. My prophecy's all come true.
It was perhaps the hope of some such happy discovery that made Winter Wedderburn such a frequent attendant at these sales that hope, and also, maybe, the fact that he had nothing else of the slightest interest to do in the world.
If you mean that smooth-faced cuss that stutters and lives on Braden's Hill, I called on him, but he was out. If you see him, tell him to come up to Wedderburn, and I'll talk with him." Mr. Ball made a gesture to indicate a feeling divided between respect for Mr. Crewe and despair at the hardihood of such a proposition. "Lord bless you, sir, Job wouldn't go." "Wouldn't go?"
That he ever lost much by play is improbable; but the scandal-mongers of Westminster had some plausible reasons for laughing at the virtuous indignation of the spotless Alexander Wedderburn, who, whilst sitting at Nisi Prius, exclaimed, "Do not swear the jury in this case, but let it be struck out of the paper. I will not try it.
Crewe did not hesitate to say that the prosperity of the farmers had risen as a result of his labours at Wedderburn where the most improved machinery and methods were adopted. His efforts to raise the agricultural, as well as the moral and intellectual, tone of the community had been unceasing.
Here was this Wedderburn had picked up a prominent man for a father, and instead of his losing so many marks on the score of that advantage, it was counted to him for righteousness!
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