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• 1At certain seasons they catch also, in “corrales,”
• 2mug has been with my folk for two hundred years. Parson
• 3back as one can follow the ancient records of the town
• 4by antiquaries from all the counties of England. It is
• 5reward that they would win from him if they carried his
• 6was buried in this church, for in 1791 no parson had officiated
• 7to the Purbeck Hills, is called the Bloody Bank. Here
• 8one part of the west rampart, looking across the heath
• 9and phlox that drew him to the perfumed air of the garden,
• 10to a sailor. It is a passion which has become interwoven
• 11is said to indicate the temporary burial-place of Edward
• 12in the Isle of Portland a hundred years ago, and the inhabitants,
• 13out to be lignite of little value, in the sandstone (probably
• 14a great vessel. When morning comes this same little room
• 15Brittany in or about 430. It is concluded that this stone
• 16Wareham decayed. Unlike other Dorset towns it stood by
• 17the steps again, finding himself now nearly up to his armpits
• 18up and run in truckloads to fill vessels in Poole Harbour.
• 19of good blue wood smoke. Corfe is one of the pleasantest
• 20They tell me, he said, that it may be worth a pound
• 21He paused for a moment, hoping to be able to lower the
• 22on the river, had smoothed all the eddies out and was sending
• 23tenants. The High Street of Old Swanage, which rises uphill
• 24from every breeze, huge elms flourish on the dry sea beach,
• 25of three-halfpence, two fowls, one of which, the Indian
• 26This clay is used for making pipes and in the manufacture
• 27has been compared to a huge rock temple—like those
• 28Dorset Knob Biscuit, without which no Dorset table is really
• 29or that other infinitely more beautiful flower who wandered
• 30it is managed otherwise, when it becomes a public thing,
• 31as an inscription records, for the prevention of wickedness
• 32the Martyr. Wareham was a favourite landing-place of the
• 33about the premises by night. He came and went as he saw
• 34look picturesque, but I am certain the beer would taste
• 35It happened at Morcombe Lake. I will not write of this
• 36heads of any vermin by the Church Wardens unless the said
• 37was the especial pride and joy of My Dear and Meriem. The
• 38some new spell. Anon a small bubble rising in the shallows,
• 39to Wareham, where a gallows had been erected to welcome
• 40and enjoy the lonely kingdom of the man at the helm of
• 41big farm, evidently finding in the society of this rougher
• 42and their place has been taken by a substantial pier. But,
• 43chamber of the Greyhound Hotel, Corfe wore her bright morning
• 44the Romans discovered them. The spade of the Dorsetshire
• 45the catacombs. Max glanced at the white face of Helen Cumberly,
• 46Corfe Castle. Here they choose wardens and stewards, settle
• 47and vice by friends of religion and good order, A.D. 1803.
• 48and, for aught I know, may be observed now. However, we
• 49their terrible ordeals in the untracked jungle to the south;
• 50a row of rotten piles, but these have long passed away