United States or Philippines ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
But I must do my own work in my own place, and leave everything else to that inscrutable Will which we can but adore;... Well, our lot is fixed. What will come to it I know not. Don't think me ambitious. I am not. I have no views. It will be enough for me if I get into some active work, and save my own soul.... My affectionate remembrances to Badeley.... Ever y'rs affectionately, John H. Newman.
The writing was Dorothy's, and some time passed after I had torn off the wrapper before I could compose myself to read it. "So, Sir, the Moment I am too ill to watch you you must needs lapse into Wilde & Flity Doings, for thus y'rs are call'd even in London. Never Mind how y'r Extravigancies are come to my Ears Sir.
Upon your arrival at Providence, make a just report to his Hon'r the Gov'r of that place of the sloop & cargo, & what is on board, & how we came by her. I am y'rs, B. NORTON. To Jeremiah Harman, Mas'r & John Webb, mate. For signal, hoist your Dutch jack at mast head; if we hoist first, you answer us, & do not keep it up long. Wednesday, 29th. About 4 P.M. saw a sloop.
At the time of her death she was not possessed of the property mentioned herein, and so the original document was never filed for record, but came to me along with certain family possessions of small value. It seems to contain the information you desire. Y'rs aff'ly, The will of Dave's mother!
At least we know that soon after this year he writes of having lately suffered accidents and waded through distresses, sufficient to move the pity of his readers, were he "fond enough of Tragedy" to make himself "the Hero of one." One of the rare fragments of Fielding's autograph, refers both to this pamphlet, and to the Vernoniad: "Mr Nourse, Y'rs "Hen. Ffielding. "April 20 1741."
A red plush cape was round her shoulders; and Eleanor could hardly believe her eyes she had not seen them since she went through the East End of London they were copper toed boots. "M' name is Meestress Leezie O'Finnigan. What's y'rs?" demanded the little old face. Eleanor didn't answer. She was trying to think what had changed the driver's friendly manner.
Three minutes later he came bounding down again, stricken white, and not caring if he encountered the devil. On his table he had found a package the complete manuscript of "Roderick Hanscom" and this scrawl: Canby, I can't produce your play everything off. Y'rs, Tal't P'r.
"Y'll be tellin' me y'r passion vows are stronger than life or death? Hoh! Y'd be a poor man if love wasn't stronger than death without any vows and big drum! Y'll be tellin' me y've warned her not t' link her life up wi' y'rs, to help y' resist an' all that; well, while y'r playin' y'r high and mighty self-sacrifice, did y'r manhood melt in the love light o' her eyes?"
The writing was Dorothy's, and some time passed after I had torn off the wrapper before I could compose myself to read it. "So, Sir, the Moment I am too ill to watch you you must needs lapse into Wilde & Flity Doings, for thus y'rs are call'd even in London. Never Mind how y'r Extravigancies are come to my Ears Sir.
So she eagerly read it, hoping to get some further light on the mysterious man in whose honour Bruce was prepared to offer so extravagant a festivity. It was written on a rough sheet of paper, with no address. The handwriting was small, compressed, and very untidy. It ran. 'Y'rs to hand.
Word Of The Day