Buttermere

“ The next morning I returned over the mountains, by Scale Force, to my lodgings.—But to return to the travellers on horseback.
At Buttermere you may leave your horses, and walk about a mile to Scale Force, a very lofty curious waterfall. In your way thither you will have a fine view of Crommack Water, and the noble mountains around it. Return to Buttermere, and ride through Newlands Vale back to Keswick. ”

“ Buttermere is a mere hamlet, comprising a small episcopal chapel, only a few farm-houses, with the Victoria and another inn for the accommodation of visitors. De Quincy, who has long been a resident of the Lake District, and a fervent admirer of its many beauties, describes this secluded spot as follows:—“The margin of the lake, which is overhung by some of the loftiest and steepest of the Cumbrian mountains, exhibits on either side few traces of human neighbourhood; the level area, where the hills recede enough to allow of any, is of a wild, pastoral character, or almost savage. ”

“ The Butterworths see a lot of other people, put down the Duke of Green-Erin as a rude, ungrateful man, and forget all about him. One fine day they go to Ascot Races, and there they meet him face to face. He stares a moment and then comes up to Mr. Butterworth, taking something from his pocketbook—something which proves to be a banknote. ”

“ The business carried on at No. 43, Fleet Street, was on a very extensive scale, and Joseph Butterworth was not only a well-known member of Parliament, but was an exceedingly wealthy and zealous philanthropist; and at his uncle’s dinner table young Henry Butterworth met many eminent and good men who were associated together to fight in a common cause—among others we may particularize Wilberforce, Teignmouth, Liverpool, Bexley, Zachary Macaulay, and Robert and Charles Grant—and from the time of his first introduction he enrolled his name among these ardent religious and social reformers. ”

“ Butterworth,’ he says, ‘so that I can pay you that ten pounds I lost to you in New York. I saw the other day you remembered our bet; here are the ten pounds, Mr. Butterworth. Goodbye, Mr. Butterworth.’ And off he goes, and that’s the last they see of the Duke of Green-Erin.”
“Is that your story?” asked Bessie Alden.
“Don’t you think it’s interesting?” her sister replied.
“I don’t believe it,” said the young girl.
“Ah,” cried Mrs. Westgate, “you are not so simple after all! Believe it or not, as you please; there is no smoke without fire.” ”

“ Butteridge would be a terrible person to be on any one's track. Bert thought of the great black moustaches, the triangular nose, the searching bellow and the glare. His afternoon's dream of a marvellous seizure and sale of the great Butteridge secret crumpled up in his mind, dissolved, and vanished. ”

“ Leaving the old timbered farmhouse of Dodmore upon our left, we descend into a pleasant vale, cross the Ledwych brook and bear away for Bitterley; following a narrow, unfrequented lane, with Titterstone making a brave show in the direction whither we are bound.
Set amidst green summer foliage, Bitterley village looks attractive [Pg 109] enough as we traverse its one quiet thoroughfare; but in winter-time, as the name suggests, the district is bleak and chilly:
'Bitterley, Bitterley under the Clee,
Devil take me if I ever come to thee!'
runs a rustic couplet that tells its own tale. ”

“ That a land apparently so wealthy should be entirely neglected by British capitalists caused Burton infinite surprise, but he felt certain that it had a wonderful future. His thoughts often reverted thither, and we shall find him later in life taking part in an expedition sent out to report upon certain of its gold fields. 193
By September 26th the "Blackbird" lay in Clarence Cove, Fernando Po; and the first night he spent on shore, Burton, whose spirits fell, wondered whether he was to find a grave there like that other great African traveller, the Cornish Richard Lander. 194
44. ”

“ William grumbled, eying the luscious pear Mr. Trohm held in his hand.
The look drew a smile from that gentleman.
"Admiring the first fruits?" he observed. "Well, it is a handsome specimen," he admitted, handing it to me with his own peculiar grace. "I beg you will take it, Miss Butterworth. You look tired; pardon me if I mention it." (He is the only person I know who detects any signs of suffering or fatigue on my part.)
"I am worried by the mysteries of this lane," I ventured to remark. "I hate to see Mother Jane's garden uprooted." ”

“ But he, with another covert glance behind him towards the barn, from which, to my surprise and increasing anxiety, William had not yet emerged, kept well up to me, and only paused when I paused at the side of the road near the buggy.
"Miss Butterworth," he began, undeterred by the air of dignity I assumed, "I have been thinking that your visit here is a rebuke to my unneighborliness. But the business which has occupied the lane these last few days has put us all into such a state of unpleasantness that it was useless to attempt sociability." ”

“ She paused in her singing and looked out of the door.
"There's one honest woman alive," she remarked to herself. "Thank Heaven, I never yet feared the face of clay!"
A tall, dark form met her eye—a great shadow in the scintillant sunlight. It was an aged Indian, walking with a staff. He was coming toward the cabin.
"Umatilla!" she said. "What can he want of me?"
The old chief approached, and bowed and sat down on a log that answered for a door-step.
"I walk with a staff now," he said. "My bow has drifted away on the tide of years—it will never come back again. I am old." ”

“ Even Mr. Van Buren had wondered where a servant obtained such a glittering robe! One day he described the wardrobe of his house-boy to the consul. "Is everything all right?" he asked.
The consul laughed. "You don't know China!" he said. "Probably the old Manchurian mandarin had a fancy for decking out the boy!"
Nora's eyes used to double in size when she saw him in silk and gold and silver, with the jeweled butterfly waving above his narrow black eyes. "There's not the loikes on this planet," she would say. ”

“ Sir, do you know that box was given to the Proprietor by Queen Charlotte herself?"
"Well, the golden arms will have to come off it; they will have to come down everywhere. No—I thank you," he continued. "I can not ever take snuff again out of a snuffbox like that."
Poor old Mr. Calamity turned to the lady.
"What am I to do? Where am I to go? You do pity me, don't you?"
A little girl passed near. He held out the box. The girl ran. The poor old man began to tremble.
"I have trembling fits sometimes," said he. "Take a pinch of snuff with me; it will steady me. ”

“ For nearly sixty years Butterworth had occupied a leading position as a publisher and as a citizen, and during that period had won the friendship and respect of all who came in contact with him. The alms which his industry enabled him to make were conscientiously, quietly, and discriminatingly bestowed: and the painted glass memorial window erected to him in the choir of the Cathedral of St. Paul’s was a fitting tribute from a very large number of friends and admirers, many of whom had experienced the kindly assistance of his friendship and advice. ”

“ And this is the way that Lyddy Butterfield came into her kingdom, a little lone brown house on the river’s brim. She had seen it only once before when she had drives, out from Portland, years ago, with her aunt. Mrs. Butterfield lived in Portland, but spent her summers in Edgewood on account of her chickens. She always explained that the country was dreadful dull for her, but good for the hens; they always laid so much better in the winter time. ”

“ Riding two and two, a score of them, they came to the old moss-green house beyond Tarporley. Maids and men running up swept the ground in bows and curtsies. Then it was told Sir Bertram that the Lady Elinor was in the apple-orchard. So Sir Bertram's great charger, Bedivere, must needs pick his feet daintily down the narrow path and through the narrow gap in the high yew hedge, and the huge pair of them, man and horse, backed by the golden sun of a morning in June, came to the orchard and the Dew Pond and a vision. ”

“ Butterby. "I'll forward it up safe to you when I've done with it."
Frank Greatorex took the paper from his pocketbook and handed it to the speaker. It was folded inside an envelope now. Mr. Butterby received possession of it and attended his guests to the door, where the fly was waiting.
"You'll have to drive fast, Thompson," he said to the man. And Thompson, touching his hat to the officer, who was held in some awe by the city natives, whipped his horse into a canter.
It was upon this interview that Mr. Butterby ruminated as he took his tea on the Friday evening. ”

“ Down into the cellar he sprang, gasping in the noisome fumes. His electric torch, still gleaming, lay on the floor. Near the mouth of the tunnel he saw the heroic old Serb prostrate. He rushed to him, stooped over him. Was he yet alive? Burton could not tell. Exerting almost superhuman strength he managed to hoist the big man to his back, and staggered with him across the cellar, up the steps, and across the floor. ”

“ Writing to Payne, 15th January, 1883, Burton says, "Has Arbuthnot sent you his Vatsyayana? 401 He and I and the Printer have started a Hindu Kama Shastra (Ars Amoris Society) . It will make the Brit (ish) Pub (lis) stare. Please encourage him." Later Arbuthnot, in reply to a question put to him by a friend, said that the Society consisted practically of himself, Sir Richard Burton and the late Lord Houghton. ”

“ If the world, his world, chose to go to war with him, he would be ready for the fight. As for Butterwell,—Butterwell the incompetent, Butterwell the vapid,—for Butterwell, who in every little official difficulty had for years past come to him, he would let Butterwell know what it was to be thus disloyal to one who had condescended to be his friend. He would show them all at the Board that he scorned them, and could be their master. Then, too, as he was making some other resolves as to his future conduct, he made one or two resolutions respecting the De Courcy people. ”

“ She rose and walked towards the hill from which Lek had come. Lek followed her. As he passed out of the town the bell sounded: it was the hour of eleven.
The people stopped in the streets as before, waving their hands, and crying,—
“Good men, all, good women, all, hurry! The hour is near. Good men, all, good women, all, hurry!”
CITY GATE.
The maiden ascended the hill to the very rock from which the student had first seen the town, and under which he had rested. ”

“ Burton's reply, addressed Axim, Gold Coast, and received by Mr. Payne, 20th March, 1882, runs as follows: "I received your welcome letter by the steamer of yesterday, and to-morrow morning my companion Cameron and I again proceed to the 'bush.' Of course you must go to press at once. I deeply regret it, but on arriving in England my time will be so completely taken up by the Gold Coast that I shall not have a moment's leisure. It would be a useless expense to keep up the type. Your terms about the royalty," he said, "are more than liberal. ”

“ The ten family livings in the county of Glamorgan fell accordingly, as provided by the statute, to the gift of the University of Cambridge. [3] The advowsons of other livings, in Monmouthshire and Northumberland, were sold in Bute's lifetime or by his successor.
The friendship between Canon Jenkins and Bute was maintained until the death of the former in 1876 [4] ”

“ I was almost angry, but restrained myself and pursued quietly, "The girls, on the contrary, seem devoted to him?"
"Women have that weakness."
"And act as if they would do—what would they not do for him?"
"Miss Butterworth, I have never seen a more amiable woman than yourself. Will you promise me one thing?"
His manner was respect itself, his smile genial and highly contagious. ”

“ And hearing her father, whom she has not seen so long, is here, a thousand mad projects enter her lively imagination. So, when Mrs. Butterby, after the refusal of her warm caudle, proposes she shall bring Madam a tray of victuals, that she may pick something in bed, Moll, stifling a merry thought, asks, in a feeble voice, what there is in the larder.
"Why, Madam," says Mrs. Butterby, from the outside, "there's the partridges you did not eat at breakfast, there's a cold pigeon pasty and a nice fresh ham, and a lovely hasty pudding I made with my own hands, in the pot." ”

“ She stared from one to the other in simple wonder.
"What is it you charge my sister with, Butterby?--the death of Counsellor Ollivera?"
"Well, yes; that's it," he answered.
"And how dare you do it?"
"Now, look you here, Mrs. Jones," said Butterby, in a tone of reason, putting his hand calmly on her wrist, "I've told Miss Rye, and I tell you, that these proceedings are instituted by the law, not by me; if I had not come to carry them out, another would, who might have done it in a rougher manner. A woman of your sense ought to see the matter in its right light. ”

“ Butterfield's "Maschil," two masculine Champions for the Synagogue of Rome,' wherein he retorts, not without point, on Butterfield's boyish presumption and too evident desire to parade his classical and patristic learning, wishing him 'more ripenesse of yeares, and more soundnesse of judgement, before he doe any more handle such deepe controuersies.' Burton was sent to the Fleet prison for his pamphlet. ”

“ She then made a round of country house visits, including one to Wardour Castle. 262 In an unpublished letter to Miss Stisted, she says: "My pet, I came here on Tuesday... I have never cried nor slept since mother died (a month to-morrow) I go up again on Monday for final pack-up—to my convent ten days—....then back to town in hopes of Nana in August, about the 7th. Then we shall go to Spain, and to Trieste, our new appointment, if he [Burton] will take it, as all our friends and relations wish, if only as a stop-gap for the present. Arundell has done an awfully kind thing. ”