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Come, bathe, old fool, and be young, and a companion fer me, and we'll stay here fer ever! "'Course, I knew he must be barmy though 'ow he got me up that cliff certainly is a mystery! Any'ow, I thought I'd better 'umour 'im a bit. So I starts to undress; and then I pauses. "'Any beer here? I asks. "'Beer, what do you want vile beer for, when there's necktie fit fer the gords to drink? says 'e.
Mortimer, "has evidently something up her sleeve, and my advice is that we humour her." Tilda eyed him. "Yes, that's right," she assented with unmoved countenance. "'Ave in supper and 'umour me." The supper consisted of two dishes the one of tripe-and-onions, the other of fried ham. There were also potatoes and beer, and gin, Mr.
The General, sir your lamented uncle had a flow: he would, if allowed, and meaning no disrespect, talk the hind leg off a jackass; but I found him lacking in 'umour. Now you, Mr. George, 'ave 'umour. You 'ave not your uncle's flow, sir the Lord forbid! But in give-and-take, as one might say, you are igstreamly droll.
I shal cum to U. erly nex weak to make my Wille, and this time shal chainge my umour no more. I have burnt ye laste, not likeing it." This passage occurs in the last letter, amongst the packet confided to me. The letter is dated September 5, 1774. On the fourteenth of the following month Matthew died, and in all probability the will here alluded to was never executed.
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