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If it was th' soul wud be in th' heavyweight class, f'r th' New England conscience is no feather. He thinks it don't escape with th' soul, but lies burrid in th' roons iv its old fam'ly home th' liver. "It's so simple it must be true, an' if it ain't true, annyhow it's simple. But it's a tur-rble thing to think iv. I can't see anny money in it as an invintion. Who'll want to have his soul weighed?
Take the Iberian branch of the race, for example. We have Spanish peons here who'll stand for as much work and hardship as any Anglo-Saxon I've met. Then an educated Spaniard's hard to beat for intellectual subtlety. Chess is a game that's suited to my turn of mind, but I've been badly whipped in Santa Brigida. They've brains and application, and yet they don't progress.
"Not a bit of it; the last ten minutes is longer than all the rest of the game," answered Stone. "I wonder who'll try the goal." "We've got to have it," said Neil. "Surely Devoe can kick an easy one like that! Why, it's dead in the center!" Stone shook his head. "I know, but Bob's got a bad way of getting nervous times like this.
They have both too much sense to carry religion about with them like a pair of hawkers, crying out 'who'll buy, who'll buy; neither do they wear long faces, nor make themselves disagreeable by dragging religion into every subject that becomes the topic of conversation.
That's what I came down here for; he wanted his daughter. He is perfectly rational and on the mend now, and as the physicians said he would be able to travel in a day or two, it was decided best to nail him. There are scores of people hereabouts who'll stand watching better than this old doctor, to my thinking; but we are like you soldiers, and have our orders."
"To some self-centered cub some puny egotist in his twenties, who'll make you a slave to his needs and whims, and discard you for another woman when you've worn out your youth and beauty," he cried. "But you won't marry him. I won't let you!" Miss Weir rose. "I think I shall go home," she said steadily. "You shall do nothing of the sort!
"Who'll be the woman when the time comes for drawing cold steel?" cried Stephen, sitting up. At that moment there came through the porch a man, a few years over thirty, likewise in mourning, with a paler, sharper countenance than the brothers, and an uncomfortable pleading expression of self- justification. "How now, lads!" he said, "what means this? You have taken the matter too hastily.
Let us take the raft there and go fishing. The tarn is simply crowded with perch and bass." "Hold your disrespectful tongue," whispered the chief, warningly, "or I'll discipline you so you'll remember it till your dying day." "Ho, ho!" laughed the rebel, jeeringly; "big words and fat pork don't stick in the throat. Wait till I get you alone and we shall see who'll be disciplined."
"'Same here, I says. "'You poor kid! she says. 'What'll you do? "'Don't worry none about me, I says. 'I can get to New Awlins somehow they're racin' down there. But what about you? "'If I could get back East, she says, 'I know a floor-walker at Macy's who'll stake me to a job till I can get placed.
"I'll take your seven to four, in tens," said I to the Baron. "Give me three," says he, "and done." I gave him three, and lost the game by one. "Dobbel, or quits," says he. "Go it," says I, up to my mettle: "Sam Coxe never says no;" and to it we went. I went in, and scored eighteen to his five. "Holy Moshesh!" says Abednego, "dat little Coxsh is a vonder! who'll take odds?"
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