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Het as he was, he took a kind o' cauld grue in the marrow o' his banes; but up he spak' for a' that; an' says he, "My friend, are you a stranger in this place?"
But it's h l. I was married onct. Not any more for mine! A pal I had used to say thet whiskey riled him, thet rattlesnake pisen het up his blood some, but it took a woman to make him plumb bad. D n if it ain't so. When there's a woman around there's somethin' allus comin' off." But the strain, instead of relaxing, became portentous.
I have discussed the history of early Christian attempts to distinguish false from true prophets in "De strijd tusschen het oudste Christendom en de bedriegers" in the Theologisch Tijdschrift, xlii. 395-411. The history of the phrase in the Old Testament and in Jewish literature is discussed by G. F. Moore in the Prolegomena to Acts, pp. 346 ff. W. C. Allen is a noteworthy exception.
Like everything Dutch, the boat was fitted up very neatly, and the students were much interested in exploring it. "Here we are, all on the raging canal!" said Terrill to his captain, as the team started. "If it comes on to blow, we can take a reef in the forward horse." "Or in the het jagertje," laughed Paul, who had been talking with Mr. Fluxion. "We'll take a reef in that now.
"'Bout dat time Sis Tempy, she lipt up in de a'r, an' sing out dat she done gone an tromple on de Ole Boy, an' she kep' on lippin' up an' slingin' out 'er han's twel bimeby blip! she tuck Sis Becky in de mouf, an' den Sis Becky riz an' fetch a grab at Sis Tempy, an' I 'clar' ter grashus ef didn't 'pear ter me like she got a poun' er wool. Atter dat de revivin' sorter het up like.
He savet your life, and my life, and ter life of iominie Grant, and ter life of ter Frenchman; and, Richard, he shall never vant a pet to sleep in vile olt Fritz Hartmann has a shingle to cover his het mit. Well, well, as you please, old gentleman, returned Mr. Jones, endeavoring to look indifferent; put him into your own stone house, if you will, Major.
Kin I het up the coffee and " "Good gracious, Amarilly! I forgot you ate at regular, stated intervals. We will go right out now to a nice little restaurant near by and eat our luncheon together." Amarilly flushed. "Thank you, Mr. Derry. That's orful nice in you, but I'd ruther eat here. Thar's the toast and coffee to het, and an aig " "No!
He ought to 'a' let well enough alone, bein' as Het was willin' to let bygones be bygones. But not him.
"'It's a het day, Maister Anderson, says Marget frae the gairden, lookin' doon on him as calm as ye like. 'Yir surely no gaein' to pass oor hoose without a gless o' milk? "Wud ye believe it, he wes that upset he left withoot sayin' 'vote, and Drumsheugh telt me next market that his langidge aifterwards cudna be printed."
He looked so strong and full of hope that her own sorrow cried, and her face worked piteously. "You goin' back?" she faltered. "Sometime, aunt Het. 'Long towards fall, maybe, to get things into shape. Then I'm comin' back again, to put it through. Who's that?" It was a neighbor, stopping his slumberous horse to leave a letter. "That's Susan's hand," said Hetty, as she gave it to him.
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