Summary

Various Chambers's journal of popular literature… (1853)

Did I not tell you the time would come when all our struggles would be over; when there would be no more fighting for very bread; no more daily care; no more dread of the future; no fears for success, because it would be already mine! Ah, Gertrude, my wife, my darling, you were good and patient to me in those days. If the clouds were dark, your eyes were always bright; if the heavens were overcast, your smile drove away the storm; your voice was the music of my life, your ceaseless trust was my lodestar.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Chambers's journal of popular literature… (1853)

During the day, he haunted the village, entering all the huts unseen, and listening to the conversation of the villagers. Often he laughed to himself as he overheard secrets disclosed, weaknesses exposed, and designs laid bare, by men and women who thought themselves alone and safe from eavesdropping. The excitement about the murder of the headman soon died out, and it ceased to be the absorbing theme of conversation in the village. The púsári was supposed to have got safely off to some distant country with his booty.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Chambers's journal of popular literature… (1853)

Why he had chosen such a house I did not learn until afterwards; but I knew it was an old-fashioned, rambling sort of place, with a room built on here at one time, and there at another time. Windows had been blocked up at one place, and windows had been let in at another. In fact, it was a house that seemed to defy a stranger to explain upon what rule, or what want of rule, it had been so constructed.
Those who first heard of Gideon West as one of the most famous physicians in London, asked in astonishment how he could live in such a ramshackle-looking building.
Source: Gutenberg

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