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Get 'em clean-bred an' fine, an' they'll yark the thick 'uns yark 'em out o' their skins." "He's ten good pund on the light side," growled the horse-breaker. "He's a welter weight, anyhow." "A hundred and thirty." "A hundred and fifty, if he's an ounce." "Well, the Master doesn't scale much more than that." "A hundred and seventy-five." "That was when he was hog-fat and living high.
Hain't had much experience with young uns. Might's well start now. Bet me 'n this here one gits well acquainted 'fore we reach Coldriver." "'Twouldn't s'prise me a mite," replied Mrs. Patterson, with something that might have been a twinkle in her tired eyes. "I almost feel I should go along with you." "G'-by, Mrs.
As they hurried towards Clare Street, Christopher diffidently asked if there was anything Mrs. Sartin would like, and Sam's sharp wits seized the occasion to please his mother and Christopher and serve himself at the same time. "Come on to my place and send her some lettuce," he suggested. "Mother's main fond of lettuce. We've got some good 'uns in this morning."
"I ain't got no dad," replied the stranger; "leastways he ran away ten years ago, an' mother had a powerful hard time since, a-bringin' up the young uns, an' we thought I might help along a big sight if I was out here."
Then they clipped each other and ceased not from their embrace, till they fell down in a swoon, for the ecstasy of reunion; and when they came to themselves, Uns d Wujoud recited these verses: Ah, how peerlessly sweet are the nights of delight, When the loved one to me keeps the troth she did plight, When enjoyment enjoyment ensues and the bonds Of estrangement between us are sundered outright, And fortune is come to us, favouring and fair, After turning away with aversion and spite!
Hackit to her husband, 'a-going among strangers, and into a nasty town, where there's no good victuals to be had, and you must pay dear to get bad uns. Mrs. Hackit had a vague notion of a town life as a combination of dirty backyards, measly pork, and dingy linen. The same sort of sympathy was strong among the poorer class of parishioners. Old stiff-jointed Mr.
For I am ugly there's no denying that: I feature my father's family. But, law! I don't mind, do you?" Priscilla here turned to the Miss Gunns, rattling on in too much preoccupation with the delight of talking, to notice that her candour was not appreciated. "The pretty uns do for fly-catchers they keep the men off us. I've no opinion o' the men, Miss Gunn I don't know what you have.
I dares do all that does become a man; but No. 7 is a body-snatcher! No. 7 has bullied me, and I bore it! No. 7 might whop me, and this h-arm would let him whop! He lives with graves and churchyards and stiff 'uns, that damnable No. 7! Ask some'at else, Grabman. I dares not touch No. 7 any more than the ghostesses."
"The whole fambly!" muttered Kennedy. Then, aloud, "Why don't you uns kerry the baby, Basil Bedell, an' give yer wife a rest?" At the prosaic suggestion the crystal realm of dreams was shattered. The bow, with a quavering discordant scrape upon the strings, paused. Then Bedell slowly mastered the meaning of the interruption. "Kerry the baby! Why, Aurely won't let none but herself tech that baby."
You're too long now for Mick, I think." "Oh, anything you like, sir," said Wally, easily. "I haven't met any bad 'uns on Billabong. Warder, or Brown Betty, or Nan have you got them all still?" "They're all here," the squatter said. "Cecil generally rides Betty, and I believe Burton's using old Warder just now. But you can have Nan, if you like." "Thanks very much," said Wally.
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