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Now wes the king cumin to the fute of the crag, and all his nobilis severit, heir and thair, fra him, at thair game and solace; quhen suddenlie apperit to his sicht the fairist hart that evir wes sene afore with levand creature.
The Swampscott fishermen still relate How a strange sea-monster stole thair bait; How their nets were tangled in loops and knots, And they found dead crabs in their lobster-pots. Poor Danvers grieved for her blasted crops, And Wilmington mourned over mildewed hops. A blight played havoc with Beverly beans, It was all the work of those hateful queans!
The very men the dear craturs feed, and clothe, and protect, and cherish, sing in the pot-houses that they want their liberty 'Becaus their wifis hes maistery, That they dar nawayis cheip; Bot gif it be in privity, Quhan thair wifis are in sleip.
And thair's Richmond! Just thair! You can chuck a stone at it, if you mind to. A'ter awhile them rebbils'll pop out, and fix us. Why ain't we led up, sa-a-y?" The man Clover represented common sentiment among the troops at this time; but I told him that in all probability he would soon be gratified with a battle.
Pride may indeed prevent the admission of this change, but it takes place, as I have said, inevitably." At this Bounce opened his eyes to their utmost possible width and said solemnly, "Wot! do ye mean for to tell me, then, that thair ain't no sich thing as obstinacy?"
At last, quhen he wes cumin throw the vail that lyis to the gret eist fra the said castell, quhare now lyis the Canongait, the staik past throw the wod with sic noyis and din of rachis and bugillis, that all the bestis were rasit fra thair dennis.
"This mornin' she came to the door with her eyes jest wiped from a-cryin'. Says I, 'Roxy, little dear, what ails you? 'Oh, nothin', says she, 'I can't tell you if thair is. 'Here's your wild flowers for Miss Vesty, says I, 'beautiful to see! 'Oh, says Roxy, 'Miss Vesty won't need 'em now. Says I: 'Roxy, air you goin' to have all that trouble on your mind an' not let me carry some of it? 'Oh, my friend, she says, 'I must tell you, fur you have been so kind to me: don't whisper it!
In a leather-bound Bible was seen this rhyme: "Evert Jonson His book God Give him Grase thair in to look not only to looke but to understand that Larning is better than Hous or Land When Land is Gon & Gold is spent then larning is most Axelant When I am dead & Rotton If this you see Remember me Though others is forgotton." Different portions of this script have been seen in many books.
"I'm a-goin' right thair," answered Levin, much relieved. "You must be a Yankee, or some other furriner, sir." "No, hobb! I'm workin' my lay back to Delaware from Norfolk, by pungy to Somers's cove. Show me to the tavern and I'll sluice your gob. I'll treat you to swig."
"No, man," Dennis said, "it was a hat on a man's head ole Meshach Milburn's steeple-top. I was a follerin' of him." "Stow your wid!" the man clapped the hat back on Levin's head. "You're a poor hobb, anyhow. Is thair any niggers to sell hereby?" "Oh, that's your trade, nigger buyin'? Well, there's mighty few niggers to sell in Prencess Anne.
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