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Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge), 1825-1900

"Springhaven : a Tale of the Great War"

Twemlow says), for
a sharp trial to us, and a lesson to our pride, and a deep source of
gratitude, and charity, and good-will--though I scarcely understand how
they come in--and, above all, a warning to us to stick together, and not
exactly hate, but still abhor, everybody who has a word to say against
his own country at a time like this. And ten thousand times as much,
if he is afraid to say it, but crawls with crafty poison into simple
English bosoms."
"There is nothing of that, miss, to my knowledge, here," the young
fisherman answered, simply; "Springhaven would never stand none of
that; and the club drinks the health of King George every night of their
meeting, and stamps on the floor for him. But I never shall help to do
that any more. I must be going, miss--and thank you."
"Then you will not tell me why you go? You speak of it as if it was
against your will, and yet refuse to say what drives you. Have you been
poaching, Dan? Ah, that is it! But I can beg you off immediately. My
father is very good even to strangers, and as for his doing anything to
you--have no fear, Dan; you shall not be charged with it, even if you
have been in Brown Bushes."
Brown Bushes, a copse about a mile inland, was the Admiral's most sacred
spot, when peace allowed him to go shooting, because it was beloved by
woodcocks, his favourite birds both for trigger and for fork. But Daniel
only shook his head; he had not been near Brown Bushes.


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