United States or Guernsey ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"The roads," he announced, are not very bad beyond the bridge. That is the worst spot, and I have sent down a gang to clear it. Our guests ought to be able to depart before noon, though I won't answer for the road Yeovil Way. One carrier Allworthy has come through to the bridge, but says he passed Solomon's van in a drift about four miles back, this side of the Cheriton oak.
A whistle from the engine, and the train drew up at a station. Looking out, I saw that it was Yeovil. There was a general exodus. Aunty became instantly a thing of dash and electricity, collected parcels, shook Albert, replied to his thrusts with repartee, and finally heading a stampede out of the door. The Irishman and his daughter also rose, and got out. I watched them leave stoically.
Brympton d'Evercy, a small parish 3 m. W. of Yeovil. It gets its name from the D'Evercys, who seem to have possessed the estate in the 13th cent., but it subsequently passed to other families, till in the 15th cent. it fell to the Sydenhams, changing hands again in the 18th cent. The church is a very interesting structure of the Dec. period.
Yeovil said nothing, and Joan understood the value of being occasionally tongue-tied. "The whole question is," continued Cicely, as the silence became oppressive, "whether one is to mope and hold aloof from the national life, or take our share in it; the life has got to go on whether we participate in it or not.
In a cosy nook of the smoking-room, in participation of the after-breakfast cigarettes, Cicely made her dash into debatable ground. "You haven't asked me how my supper-party went off," she said. "There is a notice of it in two of the morning papers, with a list of those present," said Yeovil; "the conquering race seems to have been very well represented."
A new generation will spring up, a weaker memory of old glories will survive, the eclat of the ruling race will capture young imaginations. If I had your youth, Murrey, and your sex, I would become a commercial traveller." "A commercial traveller!" exclaimed Yeovil.
Close by is a field traditionally called Conqueror's Meads, and is popularly reputed to have been the scene of some ancient battle. Marston Magna, a village 5 m. N.E. of Yeovil, with station on G.W.R. line to Weymouth. The church, though devoid of picturesqueness, has several features of architectural interest.
Yeovil seated himself at a table already occupied by a young clergyman who was smoking a cigarette over the remains of a plateful of buttered toast. He had a keen, clever, hard-lined face, the face of a man who, in an earlier stage of European history, might have been a warlike prior, awkward to tackle at the council-board, greatly to be avoided where blows were being exchanged.
Yeovil had secured for himself the enjoyment of the things for which these men hungered; he had known what he wanted in life, slowly and with hesitation, yet nevertheless surely, he had arrived at the achievement of his unconfessed desires.
Yeovil called to mind the station-master of a tiny railway town in Siberia, who had held him in long and rather intelligent converse on the poetical merits and demerits of Shelley, and he wondered what the result would be if he were to engage the English official in a discussion on Lermontoff or for the matter of that, on Shelley.
Word Of The Day