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"I've done give ye my reasons," he said, "but I hain't nuver sought ter fo'ce no woman, an' hit's too late ter start. Ther two of ye sets thar like a jury thet's done heered ther argyment. My plan wouldn't be feasible nohow onlessen yore heart war in hit, Dorothy, an' I sees es plain as day whar yore heart's at. So I reckon I kin give ye my blessin' ef ye're plum shore ye hain't makin' no error."
I do not know, but since He has kept to Himself the conduct of your soul, let Him act; be patient, He will explain His action; trust in Him, He will help you; be content to protest with the Psalmist: 'Doce me facere voluntatem tuam, quia Deus meus es tu. "I tell you again I believe in the preventive virtue, the formal power of the Sacraments.
Although our pronouns are still declined, the sole inflection of our nouns, with the exception of a few like ox, oxen, or mouse, mice, is the addition of 's, s, or es for the possessive and the plural. Modern German, on the other hand, still retains these troublesome case endings. How did English have the good fortune to lose them?
I want him arrested for assault and battery." "And what did you do?" "I? I didn't do anything." "That is rather strange. Young man, what is your name?" "Gilbert Vance." "You don't live in this town?" "No; I live in Warren." "What made you attack Peter?" "Because he flew at me, and I had to defend myself." "Is this so, Simon? You saw all that happened." "Ye es," admitted Simon, unwillingly.
"Teck Pervis yo may mark my words, but jes es soon es them broken down ristocrats git er hol of ther gov'mint, jes es soon es yo po fools help them, then yer kin go." Teck Pervis glared at his wife like a fierce beast at bay. He was Teck Pervis of old, the defiant, blood-thirsty rebel in the rifle pit glaring over the breastworks at the enemy.
An' more," he added rapidly, his eyes dancing wildly with suppressed excitement, "Hancock is a swingin' of his corps west ter meet 'em thar, an' I reckon, as how thar'll be hell fer sartain up ther Shenandoah in less ner a week es Scott ses, 'the wild sounds of border war." "But how do you know all this?"
"Ef ye wan' t' git a bear, got t' mux 'im up a leetle for'ard right up 'n the neighborhood uv 'is fo'c's'le. Don't dew no good t' shute 'is hams. Might es well try t' choke 'im t' death by pinchin' 'is tail." We were out in the open. Roofs and smoking chimneys were silhouetted on the sky, and, halfway up a hill, we could see the candle-lights of the red tavern.
"Atai boudroy dan bous fini ma triplo paouzo; Mais anfin, ey cantat, n'hazardi pas gran caouzo: Quand Pegazo reguinno, et que d'un cot de pe M'emboyo friza mas marotos, Perdi moun ten, es bray, mais noun pas moun pape; Boti mous bers en papillotos!" 'Portraits Contemporains, ii. 50. Par C. A. Sainte-Beuve, Membre de l'Academie Francaise. 1847. Jasmin was now thirty-six years old.
"I have de goot news, Sir Charles," said he, sinking his voice as one who speaks of weighty measures. "Es ist vollendet dat is, I have it at last thoroughly done." "Well, serve it hot," said my uncle, coldly, "and see that the sauces are a little better than when last I dined at Carlton House." "Ah, mine Gott, you tink I talk of de cuisine. It is de affair of de Prince dat I speak of.
This projecting a world from the gaseous elements of one's own cranium and dealing with that world, instead of the world that exists, is a danger to everybody concerned. "Bedauernswert sei es allerdings, dass wir in unserem politischen Leben nicht mit gentlemen zu thun haben, dies sei aber em Begriff der uns überhaupt abgehe," writes Prince Hohenlohe in his memoirs.
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