United States or Marshall Islands ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Charley" leaned out at the window as our train began to move. "Her comes from the zeccond 'spalier past the inyon-bed; al'ays the vurst to raipen, thic' there tree." The old fellow broke into something resembling a run as he followed our carriage to shout "Turble bad zayson vur zaider!" With that he halted at the end of the platform, and watched us out of sight.
That one could smile and smile and be a villain didn't enter into his simple rustic philosophy. "He's a pleasant-spoken gentleman is Maister McGregor," the honest Devonian said, with a tinge of disapprobation in his thick voice. "What vur do 'ee want to vind 'un? That's what I wants to know. He don't look like one as did ever hurt a vlea. Such a soft zart of a voice.
"Throo aall the waarld owld Gaarge would bwoast, Commend me to merry owld England mwoast; While vools gwoes prating vur and nigh, We stwops at whum, my dog and I." Here, at any rate, lived and stopped at home Squire Brown, J.P. for the county of Berks, in a village near the foot of the White Horse range.
"Travellin' up to Exeter?" The old man bent his head for "yes," and I saw the tears well up in his weak eyes. "There's no need vur to ax your arrand." The farmer here dropped his tone almost to a whisper. "Naw, naw. I be goin' up to berry 'en. Ees, vriends," he went on, looking around and asking, with that glance, the sympathy of all present, "to berry my zon, my clever zon, my only zon."
"He's only just arrived from London, and he's walked all the way from Brawnton." "'Tain't but a stip vur a vine vellar like 'ee, and wi' a vine maiden like yu du be grown, var tu kip 'ee company," said Happy Jack. "But 'ee'll be in a yurry tu git tu Barracombe, and refresh hisself, in arl this turble yeat. When the zun du search, the rain du voller."
His toothless mouth extended into the perpetual smile which had earned him the nickname of "Happy Jack," over sixty years since, when he had been the prettiest lad in the parish. "He only snicked down vor a drop o' brandy, vur he were clean rampin' mazed wi' tuth-ache. He waited till pretty nigh dusk var the ole ladies tu be zafe.
Guy exclaimed, with a start, in profound excitement. "That's the fellow, sure enough. I know him. I know him. And where is he now, landlord? Is he in the house? Can I see him?" "Well, no, 'ee can't zee him, zur," the landlord answered, eyeing the stranger askance; "he be out, jest at present. He do go vur a walk, mostly, down yonner in the bottom alongside the brook.
He lukes me straight in the eyes, and 'Luke, sezzee, 'us 'a' got tu git the place in vamous arder vur young Zur Peter, sezzee, 'An' I be responsible, and danged but what 'a'll du't, 'ee zays. An' I touched my yead, zo, and I zays, 'Very gude, zur, 'a zays. 'An' zo 'twill be, yu may depend on't."
"Him baint been London ways vor uppard of vivdeen year, tu my zurtain knowledge," said the old road-mender, jerking his empty pewter upwards in the direction of the terrace, where Sir Timothy's solid dark form could be discerned pacing up and down before his white house. "Tis vur a ligacy. You may depend on't. 'Twas vur a ligacy last time," said a brawny ploughman.
"There baint no warter put tu't, Joe Gudewyn. The warter-varl be tu handy vur yure brewin'." "Zum of my customers has weak 'yeds, 'tis arl the better for they," said Goodwyn, calmly. "Then charge 'em accardin', Mr. Landlord, charge 'em accardin', zays I. Warter doan't cost 'ee nart, du 'un?" said Happy Jack, triumphantly.
Word Of The Day