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

"Springhaven : a Tale of the Great War"


The old man, kneeling on the round chalk-flints set in lime for
the flooring of the passage, was handling the first step of narrow
step-ladder leading to the cellar-depth. This top step had been taken
out of the old oak mortice, and cut shorter, and then replaced in the
frame, with an iron pin working in an iron collar, just as the gudgeon
of a wheelbarrow revolves. Any one stepping upon it unawares would go
down without the aid of any other step.
"Goes like spittle now, sir," said old Jerry; "but I don't want no
more harm in this crick of life. The Lord be pleased to keep all them
Examiners at home. Might have none to find their corpusses until next
leap-year. I hope with all my heart they won't come poking their long
noses here."
"Well, I rather hope they will. They want a lesson in this
neighbourhood," muttered Carne, who was shivering, and hungry, and
unsweetened.

CHAPTER XLVIII
MOTHER SCUDAMORE

If we want to know how a tree or flower has borne the gale that flogged
last night, or the frost that stung the morning, the only sure plan is
to go and see. And the only way to understand how a friend has taken
affliction is to go--if it may be done without intrusion--and let him
tell you, if he likes.
Admiral Darling was so much vexed when he heard of Blyth Scudamore's
capture by the French, and duty compelled him to inform the mother, that
he would rather have ridden a thousand miles upon barley-bread than
face her.


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