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He was fast approaching his seventieth anniversary, but he was not a day older in spirit than when we first made his acquaintance. True, his hair was thinner and whiter, and his whiskers straggled a little more carelessly than in other days, but he was as young and active as a youth of twenty. Hard times did not worry him, nor did domestic troubles. Mrs.
What Waggoner saw was a thin, haggard face covered to the upper bulge of the jaw-bones with a disfiguring growth of reddish whiskers and inclosed at the temples by shaggy, unkempt strands of red hair which protruded from beneath the black hat. Evidently the man had not been shaved for weeks; certainly his hair needed trimming and combing.
After lunch, which in the manner of trans-continental travellers they stretched over as long a period as possible, they again repaired to the smoking car. Baker hailed them jovially, waving a stubby forefinger at vacant seats. "Say, do Populists grow whiskers, or do whiskers make Populists?" he demanded. "Give it up," replied Welton promptly. "Why?"
It was the whiskers and the thick down upon his chin which made nearly all the difference. We used to laugh about it together, and Bigley would say that it was rum, and only because he had started two years sooner than we did that was all. Of course the fact was that Bigley had not shrunk in the least.
Their leader was a horrible villain, with his face blacked and his whiskers curled in ringlets; Teach, his name; a most notorious pirate. He stamped about the deck, raving and crying out that his name was Satan, and his ship was called Hell. There was something about him like a wicked child or a half-witted person, that daunted me beyond expression.
Among the veterans, the old pictorial satirists, we have mentioned the famous name of one humorous designer who is still alive and at work. Did we not see, by his own hand, his own portrait of his own famous face, and whiskers, in the Illustrated London News the other day?
Don't you know that frogs and tadpoles have feelings and hearts as well as yourself?" "Poof! poof!" scoffed Pinkie Whiskers. "I don't care. I am going to take my tadpole home with me anyway." Father Frog did not say a word. He just jumped against Pinkie Whiskers with such force that the rod flew out of his hand and the little tadpole went flop back into his watery home.
His curling whiskers write letters wherein the sense Of love in the extreme is writ for every one. Beauty proclaimed of him, whenas with him it met, "A stuff in God's best loom was fashioned forth and done!"
"I don't know exactly, but it was a large amount, fifteen or twenty thousand dollars." "What sort of a man would you take this Styles to he?" "Oh, he is a big, overbearing Englishman, one of the kind with mutton-chop whiskers and a red nose. He is a great chap for fast horses, and I've heard he has quite a stable of them over to his place. He is also a dog fancier." "Has he been here lately?"
"Why here. Don't you know 'im?" "It's me, Susan," said Mr. Gibbs, in a low voice. "Oh, I might 'ave known it was a joke," cried Mrs. Gibbs, in a faint voice, as she tottered to a chair. "Oh,'ow cruel of you to tell me my pore Joe was alive! Oh, 'ow could you?" "Lor' lumme," said the incensed Mr. Kidd, pushing Mr. Gibbs forward. "Here he is. Same as you saw 'im last, except for 'is whiskers.
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