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Updated: August 21, 2024
Home subdues the florid effects one might have expected after Mr. Howitt's execution, and brays in an extremely general manner. And yet we observe Mr. Home to be in other things very reliant on Mr. Howitt, of whom he entertains as gratifying an opinion as Mr.
I have not heard from her, but you observed what the 'Critic' said of William Howitt's being empowered by her to declare the circumstances of her recovery? Again and again have I sent for Dr. Arnold's 'Life, and I do hope to have it to-day. I am certain, by the extracts, besides your opinion, that I shall be delighted with it.
A drunken laugh came from the old tree, followed by a smothered oath. The giant at Mr. Howitt's side growled under his breath, "Oh, I'm sick, am I? There's them that'll be a heap sicker before mornin'. Keep on a talkin', Dad. We've got to make all the time we can, so's Jim can get here." The shepherd called again, "I do not recognize your voice. You must tell me who you are."
Gibbs, himself, seemed greatly excited, and one hand rested on the pistol at his hip, as he pulled up in front of the shepherd. Without returning Mr. Howitt's greeting, he pointed toward the two empty chairs in front of the house, demanding roughly, "Who was that with you before you heard me comin'?" "Sammy Lane was here a few minutes ago," replied the shepherd.
After his death, Ralph's daughter prevailed upon her husband to dedicate Deepdale to religious uses, and he inviting the canons, they built the abbey. We are told in Howitt's Forest Minstrel of the wonder caused by the construction of the abbey, and also how in later years the monks became corrupted by prosperity.
At the time of the Gunpowder Conspiracy Rookwood rented Clopton Hall, near Stratford-on-Avon. This house also has its little chapel in the roof with adjacent "priests' holes," but many alterations have taken place from time to time. Who does not remember William Howitt's delightful description or, to be correct, the description of a lady correspondent of the old mansion before these restorations.
I cannot tell you how it has recalled the hopes and dreams of a time which, by the overruling Providence of God, was so disastrous to us. It is a beautiful essay on the dignity of labour. The last few years of Mary Howitt's life were saddened by the deaths of her beloved sister, Anna, and her elder daughter, Mrs.
Howitt's length of considering this by any means a marvellous experience, we yet venture to confess that it has awakened in our mind many interesting speculations touching the present whereabout in space, of the spirits of Mr. Howitt's own departed boots and hats.
Howitt's return from the ceremony he was visited by one of the principal men of the Murring tribe, who had travelled some two hundred and fifty miles from his home to fetch back the teeth. This man explained that he had been sent for them because one of the boys had fallen into ill health, and it was believed that the teeth had received some injury which had affected him.
To me it seemed but yesterday since I had received an epistle of thanks for a present of one of dear Mary Howitt's charming children's books, an epistle undoubtedly not indited by the writer, in huge round text, between double pencil lines, with certain small errors of orthography corrected in as mailer hand above; followed in due time by postscripts to her mother's letters, upon one single line, and the spelling much amended; then by a short, very short note, in French; and at last, by a despatch of unquestionable authenticity, all about doves and rabbits, a holiday scrawl, rambling, scrambling, and uneven, and free from restraint as heart could desire.
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