Summary

Mary Griffith Camperdown; or, News from our neighbourhood

Martin Barton on one foot.
“Going with you,” said Jenny Hart, her lip quivering, “yes, just for to-morrow; but you’ll see then—you’ll see. But go to bed, for I fear that what I have to say, will rob you of sleep.”
“Oh, no,” said Martin Barton, “nothing can keep two such tired souls awake, so say out and have done with it. You see that even poor tired Letty is broad awake, has let go my sleeve, and has put down the candlestick.”
“Well, to be sure,” said Mrs. Martin Barton, “a change has come over you. I have not heard you call me Letty this many a day. Speak out Jenny Hart.”
Source: Gutenberg

Mary Griffith Camperdown; or, News from our neighbourhood

There seemed no end to the old gentleman’s mirth, when Mrs. Webb, unable to contain herself any longer, indignantly exclaimed—“Uncle Banks, I wonder at your coming here to insult us in this manner! What can make you act in this strange unnatural way? You have hurt my husband’s feelings; which, I can tell you, is more painful to me than if you had insulted me alone.”
When the old gentleman could stop himself, he held out his arms as if he still held the child—“Here, Winny,” said he, the tears of laughter running down his cheeks—“here, take the baby; why don’t you take the child, I say?
Source: Gutenberg

Mary Griffith Camperdown; or, News from our neighbourhood

Martin Barton,” said her husband, “what a long holiday those children have; how noisy they are, jumping and screaming like mad things; and old Hosea Bringle with your night cap on—only look there.”
“No, it is my cap,” said Jenny Hart, “let the poor old man play, for once in his life; only think how long he has been nailed to this counter. Just make a codicil to your will, Mr. Martin Barton, and give the poor old soul one hundred dollars a year for life—I am only too glad to get him out of the shop.
Source: Gutenberg

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