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Updated: May 31, 2025
Just there we crossed a bridge and our driver pulled up. "The man you came to see lives here," he said. "The house is ahead, up the next hill." "The man" must have seen us coming, for the door opened and he came through the trees, a youngish, capable-looking person who said he was the same to whom we had written that is to say, Westbury William C. Westbury, of Brook Ridge, Fairfield County.
Westbury dropped in one afternoon just when we had completed a masterpiece in fire-building. He went up to warm his hands and regarded the blazing heap of hickory with critical appraisal. "That fire cost you two dollars," he remarked, probably recalling the number of days it had taken Old Pop and Sam to cut and cord the big hickory across the brook. "It's worth it," I said.
Croyez toujours, Monsieur, a mes sentiments d'amitie. To Lord Westbury G. O., November 28th. I received the revised judgements yesterday, and have sent them to the printers for correction. I will take care that your emendations are carefully made, and I will again look them all carefully over.
There was now no need for the Luath to pick her way; she might race up anywhere between the wide banks: her chances of detection were greatly lessened. The pilot spoke. "Saving your presence, admiral, but this Irish skipper is a deep dog. He should have passed ere now if he intends to do his business at Westbury and then make Gloucester on this tide. He suspects us." "How so, pilot?"
Beneath your feet lie many hundred thousand acres of green pastures, varied in colour during summer and autumn by golden wheatfields bright with yellow charlock and crimson poppies. It has been said that eleven counties are visible on clear days. The White Horse at Westbury, further down the line, represents a horse in a standing position.
We carried down a little hair trunk I was in the midst of the improvements mentioned when the family that is to say, Elizabeth and the girls arrived on the scene. It was a fine August day the 21st, to be quite exact and I borrowed a horse and light wagon from Westbury and drove the three miles of brook and woods and meadow to the station to meet them.
"Let's have in Dick the Scholar," cried Captain Westbury, laughing, and he called to a trooper out of the window, "Ho, Dick, come in here and construe." A soldier, with a good-humoured face, came in at the summons, saluting his officer. "Tell us what is this, Dick Steele," says the lawyer. "'Tis Latin," says Dick, glancing at it, and again saluting his officer, "and from a sermon of Mr.
The trolley in front and the Elevated railway behind helped out, too, besides the automobiles, and the newsboys and more or less babies that were trying to do their part. Some people would be lonesome without those things, I suppose." Westbury whittled reflectively.
Though the troopers of the King's Life-Guards were all gentlemen, yet the rest of the gentlemen seemed ignorant and vulgar boors to Harry Esmond, with the exception of this good-natured Corporal Steele the Scholar, and Captain Westbury and Lieutenant Trant, who were always kind to the lad.
"I have just one thing to say, Mary," said the parson, as he walked up and down the platform with her at Westbury; "you are to remember that, whatever happens, there is always a home for you at Bullhampton when you choose to come to it. I am not speaking of the Privets now, but of the Vicarage." "How very good you are to me!" "And so are you to us. Dear friends should be good to each other.
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