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As a betting brand with a long history, still maintains its position and popularity in the hearts of bettors.⭐️

"The wind's gone down," said the boy. "Jest a fair sailin' breeze now.",

Maurice dropped like a squirrel from the poplar. "An' leave them boat thieves stranded?" he panted. "Oh gosh! but won't that serve 'em right!",

"He could have done well," sighed the old Admiral. "A few evenings ago I was waited upon by Mr Greyquill, a sleek and dingy little man whom I do not love the sight of. Such a visit must be an intrusion. I was sitting in the open window smoking my pipe, when he pushed the gate and sneaked up the path in his land-stealing way, but before he could fetch the door I hailed him: 'Hallo, Mr Greyquill,' says I, 'pray, what business[Pg 14] brings you on this visit?' But in my heart I knew devilish well what he called about. He steps on to the grass over against my window, and with a low congee says, 'I am sorry, Sir William, to intrude upon you, sir, but I can obtain no satisfaction from your son, and at the same time I have no desire to go to extremities.' 'You'll not help your case by threatening me, Mr Greyquill,' said I. 'But look how the case stands, sir,' he cries, 'your son has had three hundred pounds from me.' 'No, sir,' I said. 'Well, sir, he owes me three hundred pounds.' 'For how much advanced?' said I. 'For two hundred in good cash,' he answered. I looked the old rogue full in the eye, and said, 'You should be a rich man, sir.' 'I want my money, Sir William,' says he. 'I trusted your son as an officer and a gentleman, and as the son of an officer and a gentleman——' 'Hold, sir,' I shouted, losing my temper. 'What right had you to trust me as an officer and a gentleman when you never gave me your confidence? Did you drop a hint to me that you were advancing money to my son? Do you suppose if I had known the truth, that I would have suffered you to accept my credit as a stake in these ignoble transactions?' 'Well, Sir William, I want my money,' said the old rascal, 'and must get it, though I[Pg 15] hope not to be driven into extremities. Is Mr Lawrence in?' 'No, sir,' says I. 'Good afternoon!' and I got up and left the window.",

"A woman," said Miss Acton, "cannot but think with more or less kindness of the man who offers her marriage and who loves her. She may reject him, but she will always feel a tenderness for him."

with its long history of development, remains one of the leading bookmakers, reflecting the prestige and quality it offers.⭐️

"It's Anse's. We must have got 'em mixed when we was dressin'.",

It was not very long before the eleven sail of the line with their attendant frigates were swelling large, bristling, and close to the Aurora, at whose signal halliards stood two sailors who dipped to such battle-ships as the schooner passed receiving the acknowledgment of small ensigns gaff-ended, and then hauled down to be hoisted no more. The picture was full of a grandeur that borrowed majesty from the sense of the power and the empire[Pg 397] the ships symbolised. They were lordly in slow motion; they bowed to the swell as though in lofty homage to their mistress the sea; they were terrible in triple rows of cannon and by virtue of the traditional magnificent spirit, silent and concealed behind their lofty and invincible defences. It was the breakfast hour, but the people aboard the Aurora were very willing to wait to break their fast. Not a man but was fascinated by the sight and presence of that tall, majestic ship out there, with the little flag at the fore. For Nelson—the Nelson of the North, of Aboukir Bay, of Teneriffe, of St Vincent, the Nelson of a hundred wounds, the first of all sea chieftains in the history of the world, Nelson, the truest sailor, the kindest shipmate, the man of the purest and loftiest spirit of chivalry and patriotism that ever stepped the planks of a ship's decks—this great, this sublime hero, to be even greater and sublimer in his victorious and immortal death a few months later—Nelson was in her!,

"Yes, I have come straight from the Minorca.",

On the top-most branch of a tall, dead pine, close beside the wood-pile, sat the tame crow, Croaker, his head cocked demurely on one side, as he listened to the woman's righteous abuse. Croaker could no more help filling his claws with chips and dirt and wobbling the full length of a line filled with snowy, newly-washed clothes than he could help upsetting the pan of water in the chicken-pen, when he saw the opportunity. He hated anything white with all his sinful little heart and he hated the game rooster in the same way. He was always in trouble with Ma Wilson, always in trouble with the rooster. Only when safe in the highest branch of the pine was he secure, and in a position to talk back to his persecutors.