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"Ah, my dear sir, a little attention to our principles will remove it," said Mr. Batts: "let me beg your acceptance of this little pamphlet, in which you will find some fundamental truths stated, almost in the way of aphorisms. I wish to direct your attention to page 8, where they are drawn out." Charles turned to the page, and read as follows: "On the pursuit of Truth.
"I conceive it to be intolerant," persisted Mr. Batts: "you will grant, I suppose, that Christianity has nothing to do with astronomy or geology: why, then, should it be allowed to interfere with philosophy?"
But now about this yoong woman an' Great End? "Well, I ain't heared much about her not yet awhile. But they say as she's nice-lookin', an' Muster Shentsone ee said as she'd been to college somewhere, where they'd larn't her farmin'." Batts made a sound of contempt. "College!" he said, with a twitching of the broad nostrils which seemed to spread over half his face. "They can't larn yer farmin'!"
I don't think I ever had such a turn in my life." They went back to the parlour, leaving the two servants still sitting by the fire; Sarah Batts with that look of injured innocence fixed upon her wooden countenance, Martha Holden cheerfully employed in the construction of her Sunday cap.
While Ellen Whitelaw was looking on at the work of ruin, with a sense of utter helplessness, hearing the selfish lamentations of Mrs. Tadman and Sarah Batts like voices in a dream, she was suddenly aroused from this state of torpor by a loud groan, which sounded from not very far off. It came from behind her, from the direction of the poplars.
This Island was the Habitation of an incredible number of great Batts, with Bodies as big as Ducks, or large Fowl, and with vast Wings: For I saw at Mindanao one of this sort, and I judge that the Wings stretcht out in length, could not be less assunder than 7 or 8 Foot from tip to tip; for it was much more than any of us could fathom with our Arms extended to the utmost.
In the latter end of 1762, Mr. Cook returned to England; and, on the 21st of December, in the same year married, at Barking in Essex, Miss Elizabeth Batts, an amiable and deserving woman, who was justly entitled to and enjoyed his tenderest regard and affection.
Martha Holden, the house-servant, was busy making herself a cap as her mistress came into the kitchen, droning some Hampshire ballad by way of accompaniment to her work. Sarah Batts was seated in an attitude of luxurious repose, with her arms folded, and her feet on the fender. "Was it either of you girls that screamed just now?" Ellen asked anxiously.
'Don't you try to hustle-bustle me like you're doin', say my missus sharp-like to a Labour chap as coom round lasst week, 'cos yo' won't get nothin' by it. And she worn't no more forthcomin' to the Conservative man when ee called." "Will she do what you tell her, Batts?" asked Halsey, with an evident interest in the question. "Oh, Lord, no!" said Batts placidly, "shan't try.
"'You'm a liar! Did you say that, Peter?" Peter fenced a little. "There be more ways nor one o' speakin' your mind," he said at last. "But I stood up to un. Did you hear, Batts, as Great End Farm is let?" The old man turned an animated look on his companion. "Well, for sure!" said Batts, astonished. "An' who's the man?" "It's not a man. It's a woman." "A woman!" repeated Batts, wondering.
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