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It wavered about for a minute or two, exactly like that thing just now, and then rolled, as it might be, down the spar until it met the topmast-stay, down which it travelled to the foremast-head, and from thence it came down the topsail sheet to the deck, where it bursted. Ten minutes after that happened, sir, we were struck by a squall that hove us over on our beam- ends.
Some bought ready-made clothes, which went to pieces at the very sight of soap and water. He sold a fusee to old Jerry Seaborn, and warranted the piece, and it bursted into flinders, the very first fire, and tore little Jerry's hand and arm son of old Jerry almost to pieces. He'll never have the right use of it agin. And that ain't all. Thar's no counting up his offences."
I should have observed, that as we advanced to charge Johnson's poltroons, one of the party, a resolute fellow, presented his gun to my breast and drew the trigger. Happily, in the very instant of its firing, lieutenant Jossilin knocked it up with his sword; and the ball grazing my shoulder, bursted through the side of the house.
"But another had gone the same road, for, at the awful moment, beside the bursted gun, the dying gunner, Garoche, lifted up his head, saw the loose travelling hill, and said with his last breath: 'The waters drown them, and the hills bury them, and "He had his way with them, and after that perhaps the great God had His way with him perhaps." THE TUNE McGILVERAY PLAYED
He vas passionate, and did lose his 'ead; and vas blow'd up vid bigness. Whereupon Croll made an action as though he were a frog swelling himself to the dimensions of an ox. ''E bursted himself, Mr Fisker. 'E vas a great man; but the greater he grew he vas always less and less vise.
A cloud was forming over the whole northeastern quarter of the sky, along the horizon black, overhead a vast gray wave, in its heart copper-hued, seething, interworking, now a distended sail, now a sail bursted; and the wind could he heard whipping the shreds into fleece, and whirling them a confusion of vaporous banners. Yet glassy, the water reflected the tint of the cloud.
It digests its moral. Homer digested his morals. They transfuse his epics. So did Shakespeare. Not so with the writers of the social-conscience school. They are in a rage over wicked, wasteful man. Their novels are bursted notebooks sometimes neat and orderly notebooks, like Mr. Galsworthy's or our own Ernest Poole's, sometimes haphazard ones, like those of Mr.
Tents, garments, and carpets hung upon the bushes as if the animals had tossed them contemptuously there as being unfit to eat. Everything eatable had disappeared. The fruit, grain, and vegetables had been completely cleared up. The skins of wine were bursted; but the contents had been apparently appreciated, for none remained in the hollows of the rocks. "What greedy creatures!"
It was funny enough when we fed her, but now that she was bursted wide open there was nothing amusing about it; and to roar when a visitor plainly told you she was in awful trouble, didn't seem very good manners to me.
One of the largest of their shells bursted within nine or ten yards of me: there was a single rock close by, about the size of a butt; and I got instant shelter under it in time to avoid the fury of the shell.
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