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This is Arthur Miles, an' I've told 'im all along as you're the best and 'elpfullest o' men an' so you are, if you pull yerself together. 'E only wants to get to a place called 'Olmness, w'ich is right below 'ere " "'Olmness?" "It's an Island, somewhere in the Bristol Channel. It it can't be far, Bill an' I got 'arf-a-sufferin' " "Where?" asked Bill with unexpected promptness.
THOU GAWD SEEST ME, was the tex' I 'ad in my Bible, w'ich my father wrote it in with 'is own 'and upon the fly leaft. 'I am sorry I have to beg your pardon once more, said Attwater; 'but, do you know, you seem to me to be a trifle nearer, which is entirely outside of our bargain. And I would venture to suggest that you take one two three steps back; and stay there.
Well, if `de morrow' ever comes, w'ich I doubt, Sanda Pasha will find 'e 'as made a most hegragious mistake of some sort. 'Owever that's 'is business, not mine."
Being early in the day, the room had no occupants but themselves and the fisherman's wife, who busied herself in cleaning and arranging plates, cups, and saucers, etcetera, for expected visitors. "Pat," said Bob, sipping his coffee with an appreciative air, "I've turned a total abstainer." "W'ich means?" inquired Pat. "That I don't drink nothin' at all," replied Bob.
Gwine 'long one day, met Johnny Huby, ax him grine nine yards er steel fer me, tole me w'ich he couldn't; den I hist 'im over Hickerson Dickerson's barn-doors; knock 'im ninety-nine miles under water, w'en he rise, he rise in Pike straddle un a hanspike, en I lef' 'im dar smokin' er de hornpipe, Juba reda seda breda.
"But you didn't see no signs o' Jarge, did ye?" demanded Old Amos, "as ye might say, neither 'ide nor 'air of 'im speak up, James Dutton." "W'ich, since you axes me, I makes so bold as to answer an' very glad I'm sure no; though as to 'ide an' 'air, I aren't wishin' to swear to, me not bein' near enough w'ich could only be expected, an' very much obliged, I'm sure."
You go to dat tabernickle to-night an' you keep on goin' an' le's see whut come to pass.... Jeffy, dey's a little mossil of cold peach cobbler lef over f'um dinner yistiddy settin' up yonder amongst de shelfs of my cu'board!" "Nome, thank you," said Jeff. "The emotions w'ich is in me seems lak they ain't left me no room fur nothin' else. Seems lak I can't git my mind on vittles yit.
"Solon was a man as thought his-self a great feelosopher, but he worn't, he wor an ass." "If I'm like Solon," retorted Rokens, "you're like a Solon-goose, w'ich is an animal as don't think itself an ass, 'cause its too great a one to know it." Having thus floored his adversary, the philosophic mariner turned to Glynn and said "In course we can't expect to be on full allowance."
And this made him more confident than ever. "But why do you want to know?" the old chemist went on. "Is it home lessons?" "'E," said Tilda, indicating Arthur Miles, "'e wants to find a relation 'e's got there a kind of uncle in 'Olmness, w'ich is in the Gazetteer," she repeated, as though the scent lay hidden in a nest of boxes, "'w'ich is in the Free Library."
He stuffs her birds for her too, for nothink, an' once he stuffed a tom-cat for 'er, w'ich she was uncommon fond of, but he couldn't make much of a job of it, 'cause it died through a kittle o' boilin' water tumblin' on its back, which took off most of the 'air." While the child was speaking Mr Blurt drew a handful of silver from his pocket, and counted out ten shillings.
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