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I 'xpect he carries too many guns to be steered by a woman; 'tis a kinder pity you a'n't a man, Sally; mebbe you'd argufy him round then; it's plain as the Gulf you can't crook his v'yage; he's too stiff for wimmin-folks, that is a fact!" Oh, Long Snapps! Long Snapps! how many wives, in how many ports, went to the knowledge of feminine nature that dictated that speech? Sally set her lips.
"For breakfast a good cup of tea. "Silence, you sea-cook! how dare you shove in your penny whistle! How's tide, Tom?" "Three quarters ebb." "No, it a'n't, you thief; how is it Jacob?" "About half, I think." "And you're right." "What water have we down here on the side?" "You must give the point a wide berth," replied I; "the shoals runs out."
She began to treat him very cold like, and, one day, when she was in a little bit of temper " "Has Mrs. Frump any temper?" asked Matthew, anxiously. "I never saw it." "But you a'n't her husband," replied the carpenter. "Amos told me that she did show a leetle temper now and then. However, he allers said she was a pooty good gal in the main.
"Well, I don't know, Sir. I guess I shall live as long as I want to; and I expect I shall die content. I a'n't troubled." "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth," murmured Mr. Goodyear, as he walked away.
He goes into all sorts of hap-hazard scrapes himself, but you can't follow him." "But it looks so nice up there," pleaded Ivy, "and I have been twice as high at home. I don't mind it at all." "If your father chooses to let you run the risk of your life, it's none of my look-out, but I a'n't going to have you breaking your neck right under my nose.
Jackson's goin' to come, and, if you ha'n't seen him work the plantchette for a spell, you'll be surprised. There a'n't hardly anybody he can't have up. You'll come? Good enough!" What affected Westover first of all at the seance, and perhaps most of all, was the quality of the air in the little house; it was close and stuffy, mixed with an odor of mould and an ancient smell of rats.
"Dead?" said she, clutching at the old sailor's hand. "No! no! he a'n't slipt his moorins' yet, but he is badly stove about the figger-head; he's got a ball through his head somewhere, an' another in his leg; and he a'n't within hail; don't hear no speakin'-trumpets; fact is, Sally, he's in for the dockyard a good spell, ef he a'n't broke up hull and all." "Who shot him?" whispered Sally.
And now I think on't, pray a'n't you the person I saw at the play one night, and who didn't know, all the time, whether it was a tragedy or a comedy, or a concert of fiddlers?" "I believe, Sir," said Mr. Lovel, stammering, "I, had once,-I think-the pleasure of seeing you last spring."
His father is a deacon, and such a good man! and Jim, though he did make a great laugh wherever he went, and sometimes laughed where he hadn't ought to, was a noble-hearted fellow. Now, to be sure, as the Doctor says, 'amiable instincts a'n't true holiness'; but then they are better than unamiable ones, like Simeon Brown's.
"Where's all the oranges gone to?" said Mrs. Sprowle. "I expected there'd be ever so many of 'em left. I did n't see many of the folks eatin' oranges. Where's the skins of 'em? There ought to be six dozen orange-skins round on the plates, and there a'n't one dozen. And all the small cakes, too, and all the sugar things that was stuck on the big cakes. Has anybody counted the spoons?
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