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Updated: June 3, 2025
"But anyway, you needn't ask me such questions, because here's Miss Massey who knows everything," Suzanna finished magnanimously. "She does that," said the man gravely who was holding the baby. "Are you related to Miss Massey?" asked Suzanna. Now Miss Massey's rather faded cheeks grew pink. "Is it a long time before the baby needs his bottle again, Suzanna?" she asked.
The papers made rather a striking story of his romantic history and its startling denouement which had come they said through the death bed confessions of the man Roberts which had only just reached the older Massey's hands, strangely enough on the eve of his own tragic death, which was again related to make the tale a little more of a thriller.
Whilst I was preparing my Massey's log to show the use of it to the king, he went off boating without me; and as the few remaining boats would not take me off because they had received no orders to do so, I fired guns, but, getting no reply, went into the country hoping to find game; but, disappointed in that also, I spent the first half of the day with a hospitable old lady, who treated us to the last drop of pombe in her house for the king's servants had robbed her of nearly everything smoked her pipe with me, and chatted incessantly on the honour paid her by the white king's visit, as well as of the horrors of Uganda punishment, when my servants told her I saved the life of one queen.
He sat down on the unpainted piazza, and took up Gerald Massey's poems, of which he never tired, and read until the light failed. And then came Isa Marlay out in the twilight and said she wanted to speak to him, and he got her a chair and listened while she spoke in a voice as full of harmony as her figure was full of gracefulness.
Will you go out with me to-night?" Before Tony could speak Alan Massey's long right arm shot out in Dick's direction. Dick dodged the blow coolly. "Hold on, Massey," he said. "I'm perfectly willing to smash your head any time it is convenient. Nothing would afford me greater pleasure in fact. But you will kindly keep from making trouble here.
And day by day Jim Roberts grew sicker and the gnawing thing crept up nearer to his heart. Day by day he gloated over the goading whips he brandished over Alan Massey's head, amused himself with the various developments it lay in his power to give to the situation as he passed out of life. He wrote two letters from his sick bed.
Opposite to her was Scarpi, the famous baritone; and then there was Massey, a sculptor from Paris, and Miss Rita Seton, of the "Red Hussars" Company, and a Miss Raymond, a gorgeous creature with a red flamingo feather in her hat, who had been Massey's model for his sensational figure of "Aurora". Finally there was Barry Creston himself: a new type, and a disconcerting one.
I've had enough to be thankful for: I've allays had health and strength and brains to give me a delight in my work; and I count it a great thing as I've had Bartle Massey's night-school to go to. He's helped me to knowledge I could never ha' got by myself." "What a rare fellow you are, Adam!" said Arthur, after a pause, in which he had looked musingly at the big fellow walking by his side.
The reading class now seated on the form in front of the schoolmaster's desk consisted of the three most backward pupils. Adam would have known it only by seeing Bartle Massey's face as he looked over his spectacles, which he had shifted to the ridge of his nose, not requiring them for present purposes.
From his "Black Hole of Calcutta" we take the lines: Time would fail to tell of Linton's "Torch-Dance of Liberty," or of Massey's "Men of Forty-eight," and there are many more the utterance of men who spoke from the heart, knowing in their own lives what suffering was. But let us rather turn for a moment to the prose of a man who, also reared in hardship's school, had learnt to succour misery.
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