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Gentleman George had a great horror of blue devils, and particularly disliked all disagreeable subjects. "Thunder and oons, Old Bags!" quoth mine host of the Jolly Angler, "this will never do; we're all met here to be merry, and not to listen to your mullancolly taratarantarums. I says, Ned Pepper, s'pose you tips us a song, and I'll beat time with my knuckles."

Oons, what care I for him?" said he, as the pursuer drew yet nearer; "it is but the little animal of a mercer from Abingdon, when all is over." Even so it was, as the experienced eye of Wayland had descried at a distance.

"If you please," he said, and made his bow to Mr. Hadley. "Why, what's the matter? I don't bite. You are too meek for this life, Mr. Boyce." He looked at Harry with some contempt in his grey eyes. "Oons, you're a man and a brother, ain't you? Sit down and be hearty. Lud, Geoffrey, why do you never have a pipe in the room?" "It's death to a clean taste, your tobacco smoking, and I value my wine."

Oons! what do you fear?" he exclaimed, "you that have played with March and Fox?" "I fear nothing, doctor," I answered, smiling. "But a man must have a sorry honour when he will win fifty pounds with but ten of capital." "One of Dr. Franklin's maxims, I presume," says he, with sarcasm. "And if it were, it could scarce be more pat," I retorted. "'Tis Poor Richard's maxim." "O lud!

He threw back his gown and tilted his cap, and lighting his pipe began to speak of that act of Townshend's, passed but the year before, which afterwards proved the King's folly and England's ruin. "Principle!" exclaimed my fine clergyman at length, blowing a great whiff among the white blossoms. "Oons! your Americans worship his Majesty stamped upon a golden coin.

To this question his fellow-traveller replied, "Swanker anan!" And the lover resumed his suit, saying, "Oons! how you tickle my timber! Something shoots from your arm, through my stowage, to the very keelstone. Han't you got quicksilver in your hand?" "Quicksilver!" said the lady, "d n the silver that has crossed my hand this month; d'ye think, if I had silver, I shouldn't buy me a smock?"

Blood and oons, answered Breton, I was there, and can prove it easily; nay, even where you, my lord, dared not have been. The duke began to resent this as too rash and saucy; but Breton easily appeased him, and set them all a-laughing.

Carvel continued. "Do you mind how you once asked the favour of inviting her in the place of a present? Oons! I loved you for that, boy. 'Twas like a Carvel. And I love that lass, Whig or no Whig. 'Pon my soul, I do. She hath demureness and dignity, and suits me better than yon whimsical baggage you are all mad over. I'll have Mr. Swain beside me, too.

Oons! what do you fear?" he exclaimed, "you that have played with March and Fox?" "I fear nothing, doctor," I answered, smiling. "But a man must have a sorry honour when he will win fifty pounds with but ten of capital." "One of Dr. Franklin's maxims, I presume," says he, with sarcasm. "And if it were, it could scarce be more pat," I retorted. "'Tis Poor Richard's maxim." "O lud!

Oons! one need not go to Scripture for miracles. I shall write my congratulations to Mr. Carvel this day, sir." And he pushed his fingers into my waistcoat, so that Comyn and I were near to laughing in his face. For it was impossible to be angry with a little coxcomb of such pitiful intelligence. "Ah, good morning, my Lord.