Brownlows

Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book Brownlows by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant, Library of Alexandria
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant ISBN: 9781465616029
Publisher: Library of Alexandria Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
ISBN: 9781465616029
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English
Every body in the neighborhood was perfectly aware what was the origin of John Brownlow's fortune. There was no possibility of any mistake about it. When people are very well known and respectable, and inspire their neighbors with a hearty interest, some little penalty must be paid for that pleasant state of affairs. It is only when nobody cares for you, when you are of no importance to the world in general, that you can shroud your concerns in mystery; but the Brownlows were very well known, much respected, and quite unable to hide themselves in a corner. In all Dartfordshire there was no family better known; not that they were county people, or had any pretensions to high connection, but then there was not one family in the county of whom John Brownlow did not know more than they knew themselves, and in his hands, and in the hands of his fathers before him, had reposed the papers and affairs of all the squires about, titled or otherwise, for more years than could be counted. It was clever of the Brownlows to have had so much business in their hands and yet not to be rich; but virtue, when it is exceptional, is perhaps always a little extreme, and so it is probable that an honest lawyer is honester than most honest men who have no particular temptation. They were not rich, and yet, of course, they were far from being poor. They had the kind of substantial old brick house, standing close up to the pavement in the best end of the High Street of Masterton, which would be described as a mansion in an auctioneer's advertisement. It was very red and infinitely clean, and had a multitude of windows all blinking in the sun, and lighting up into impromptu illuminations every winter afternoon, when that blazing red luminary went down, not over the river and the open country, as he ought to have done, but into the rectory garden, which happened to lie in his way as he halted along toward the west. The Brownlows for generations back had lived very comfortably in this red house. It had a great, rich, luxuriant, warm garden behind, with all sorts of comforts attached to it, and the rooms were handsome and old-fashioned, as became a house that had served generations; and once upon a time many good dinners, and much good wine, and the most beautiful stores of fine linen, and crystal, and silver were in the house, for comfort, and not for show. All this was very well, and John Brownlow was born to the possession of it; but there can be no doubt that the house in the High Street was very different from the house he now inhabited and the establishment he kept up in the country. Even the house in the High Street had been more burdened than was usual in the family when it came to his turn to be its master. Arthur, the younger brother, who was never good for much, had just had his debts paid for the second time before his father died. It was not considered by many people as quite fair to John, though some did say that it was he above all who urged the step upon old Mr. Brownlow. Persons who professed to know, even asserted that the elder son, in his generosity, had quite a struggle with his father, and that his argument was always "for my mother's sake." If this, was true, it was all the more generous of him, because his mother was well known to have thought nothing of John in comparison with the handsome Arthur, whom she spoiled as long as she lived. Anyhow, the result was that John inherited the house and the business, the furniture and old crystal and silver, and a very comfortable income, but nothing that could be called a fortune, or that would in any way have justified him in launching out into a more expensive description of life.
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Every body in the neighborhood was perfectly aware what was the origin of John Brownlow's fortune. There was no possibility of any mistake about it. When people are very well known and respectable, and inspire their neighbors with a hearty interest, some little penalty must be paid for that pleasant state of affairs. It is only when nobody cares for you, when you are of no importance to the world in general, that you can shroud your concerns in mystery; but the Brownlows were very well known, much respected, and quite unable to hide themselves in a corner. In all Dartfordshire there was no family better known; not that they were county people, or had any pretensions to high connection, but then there was not one family in the county of whom John Brownlow did not know more than they knew themselves, and in his hands, and in the hands of his fathers before him, had reposed the papers and affairs of all the squires about, titled or otherwise, for more years than could be counted. It was clever of the Brownlows to have had so much business in their hands and yet not to be rich; but virtue, when it is exceptional, is perhaps always a little extreme, and so it is probable that an honest lawyer is honester than most honest men who have no particular temptation. They were not rich, and yet, of course, they were far from being poor. They had the kind of substantial old brick house, standing close up to the pavement in the best end of the High Street of Masterton, which would be described as a mansion in an auctioneer's advertisement. It was very red and infinitely clean, and had a multitude of windows all blinking in the sun, and lighting up into impromptu illuminations every winter afternoon, when that blazing red luminary went down, not over the river and the open country, as he ought to have done, but into the rectory garden, which happened to lie in his way as he halted along toward the west. The Brownlows for generations back had lived very comfortably in this red house. It had a great, rich, luxuriant, warm garden behind, with all sorts of comforts attached to it, and the rooms were handsome and old-fashioned, as became a house that had served generations; and once upon a time many good dinners, and much good wine, and the most beautiful stores of fine linen, and crystal, and silver were in the house, for comfort, and not for show. All this was very well, and John Brownlow was born to the possession of it; but there can be no doubt that the house in the High Street was very different from the house he now inhabited and the establishment he kept up in the country. Even the house in the High Street had been more burdened than was usual in the family when it came to his turn to be its master. Arthur, the younger brother, who was never good for much, had just had his debts paid for the second time before his father died. It was not considered by many people as quite fair to John, though some did say that it was he above all who urged the step upon old Mr. Brownlow. Persons who professed to know, even asserted that the elder son, in his generosity, had quite a struggle with his father, and that his argument was always "for my mother's sake." If this, was true, it was all the more generous of him, because his mother was well known to have thought nothing of John in comparison with the handsome Arthur, whom she spoiled as long as she lived. Anyhow, the result was that John inherited the house and the business, the furniture and old crystal and silver, and a very comfortable income, but nothing that could be called a fortune, or that would in any way have justified him in launching out into a more expensive description of life.

More books from Library of Alexandria

Cover of the book Tacitus: The Histories, Volumes I and II by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book On Ulcers by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book Mark Seaworth by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book The Boss and the Machine: A Chronicle of the Politicians and Party Organization by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book The Book of Poetry by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book The Letter of Petrus Peregrinus on the Magnet, A.D. 1269 by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book Le renard by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book In Wicklow and West Kerry by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson (Complete) by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book Plato's Doctrine Respecting the Rotation of the Earth and Aristotle's Comment Upon That Doctrine by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book Memoirs of the Jacobites of 1715 and 1745 (Complete) by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book Folklore and Legends: Oriental by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book War Experiences and the Story of the Vicksburg Campaign From "Milliken's Bend" to July 4, 1863: Being an Accurate and Graphic Account of Campaign Events Taken From the Diary of Capt. J.J. Kellogg, of Co. B 113th Illinois Volunteer Infantry by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book Wolfert's Roost and Miscellanies by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
Cover of the book South Africa and the Transvaal War, Vol. V From the Disaster at Koorn Spruit to Lord Roberts's entry into Pretoria by Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant
We use our own "cookies" and third party cookies to improve services and to see statistical information. By using this website, you agree to our Privacy Policy