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‘This is no time for business, sir!—I’ll tell you, now, what I think of your conduct.’ ‘You’d better defer your opinion to a more convenient season,’ interrupted he in a low tone—‘here’s the vicar.’ And, in truth, the vicar was just behind me, plodding homeward from some remote corner of his parish. I immediately released the squire; and he went on his way, saluting Mr. Millward as he passed.
There sits the yeoman at the end of his long room, surrounded by his friends; glasses are filled, and a song is the cry, and a song is sung well suited to the place: it finds an echo in every heart—fists are clenched, arms are waved, and the portraits of the mighty fighting men of yore, Broughton, and Slack, and Ben, which adorn the walls, appear to smile grim approbation, whilst many a manly voice joins in the bold chorus: Here’s a health to old honest John Bull, When he’s gone we shan’t find such another, And with hearts and with glasses brim full, We will drink to old England, his mother.
Stay, here’s Smaragdov’s Universal History. That’s all true. Read that.” But Smerdyakov did not get through ten pages of Smaragdov. He thought it dull. So the bookcase was closed again. Shortly afterwards Marfa and Grigory reported to Fyodor Pavlovitch that Smerdyakov was gradually beginning to show an extraordinary fastidiousness.
‘Thank you, boy: here’s Parr’s health, and Whiter’s.’ ‘Who is Whiter?’ ‘Don’t you know Whiter? I thought everybody knew Reverend Whiter the philologist, though I suppose you scarcely know what that means. A man fond of tongues and languages, quite out of your way—he understands some twenty; what do you say to that?’ ‘Is he a sound man?’
‘Here’s the gentleman you want,’ said Ikey, abruptly breaking off in his story, and introducing Mr. Gabriel Parsons to the crest-fallen Watkins Tottle, who at that moment entered the room. Watkins advanced with a wooden expression of passive endurance, and accepted the hand which Mr. Gabriel Parsons held out.
This was not strictly true, for as a matter of fact the doctor had only hesitated to tell of this offer lest he should be shamed to a decision. But Welsh was infectious. “Congratulations, old man!” said his friend. “What’s it all about?” “Here’s a letter from an old friend of my people’s—Dr Watson, by name. He has a very good country practice, and he offers me this job.”
The bronze-dealer was now mollified, and would willingly have released the lad, but a Spartan bystander was more zealous. “Here’s a Barbarian thief and spy!” he began bellowing; “he dropped the lamp when he was detected! Have him to the temple and to the wardens of the games!” The magic word “spy” let loose the tongues and passions of every man within hearing.
"I tell you it’s serious," said Jack. As he spoke another ominous heaving set the bottles tipping and nearly sent Clover backwards. "And I’m serious," exclaimed Mitchell. "I’m always serious only I never can get any girl to believe it. Here’s to me, and may I grow more and more serious each—" A tremendous wave bore the yacht upright and then let her fall on her forelegs again.
There’s Gary, Captain in the Athabasca Battalion, a Yankee if the truth were known; there’s Flint, a cockney lieutenant in a Calgary battery; there’s young Gray, a lieutenant and a Prince Edward Islander; and here’s me, a major in the Yukon Battalion four of us on the top of a cursed French mountain ten months of each other, of solitude, silence and the whole world rocking with battles and not a sound up here not a whisper!
‘That will do,’ said the man; ‘that’s the kind of prayers for me and my family, aren’t they, wifelkin? I never heard more delicate prayers in all my life! Why, they beat the rubricals hollow!—and here comes my son Jasper. I say, Jasper, here’s a young sap-engro that can read, and is more fly than yourself. Shake hands with him; I wish ye to be two brothers.’
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