United States or Lithuania ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Uncle Daniel said: "Peter always believed there was something in his mother's dream; and while Gen. Anderson was trying to encourage him, old Ham spoke up: "'Marsa Gen'l, dey's no use. I tell you dat dream am a fac'. It is, sho', an' Marsa Peter he know it. I 'terpret dat for him; 'deed I did. I not fool on dat. But, den, we mus' take keer ob him. I 'spec' he go home an' see he mudder and fader.
"Eight thousand," murmured the other, "you have had eight thousand pounds out of me, and the two to-night will make ten. Seems a good price for a few papers." He made the shot on spec. It was a bull's eye. "Oh, those papers are worth a good deal more than that," said Voles, "a good deal more than that."
"Hi, Mistis," broke in Uncle Balla, "whar is I got to go? I wuz born on dis place an' I 'spec' to die here, an' be buried right yonder;" and he turned and pointed up to the dark clumps of trees that marked the graveyard on the hill, a half mile away, where the colored people were buried. "Dat I does," he affirmed positively. "Y' all sticks by us, and we'll stick by you."
The old chap had bought it up on spec' "de l'audace, toujours de l'audace," as he was so fond of saying paid for it half in cash and half in promises, and then the thing had turned out empty, and left him with L20,000 worth of the old shares unredeemed. The old boy had weathered it out without a bankruptcy so far. Indomitable old buffer; and never fussy like the rest of them!
"Well, now if it isn't, you show me why, you're a logician." There was a twinkle in the eye of George Marston as he spoke. "No, I ain' no 'gician, Mastah," the old man contended. "But what kin' o' u'ligion you spec' I got anyhow? Hyeah me been sto'in' it up fu' lo, dese many yeahs an' ain' got enough to las' ovah a few Sundays. What kin' o' u'ligion is dat?"
She didn't hab a livin', breathin' soul but her paw, 'ceptin' me an' Carline, an' Carline's liable to drop off mos' anytime." "But who is going to live with her?" "I spec she gwine git married some day," Jimpson said hopefully, "all de boys been plumb 'stracted 'bout dat chile since she wuz a little girl. But she wuz so crazy 'bout her paw, she jes laff at 'em.
I han't been used handsum atween you two, and it don't seem to me that I had ought to be made a fool on in that book, arter that fashion, for folks to laugh at, and then be sheered out of the spec. If I am, somebody had better look out for squalls, I tell you.
It's pow'ful hard on a man wot's worked all day ter have ter tote apples ahfter night, but dar ain' no other way ob gittin' dat dar money." "I spec' de orchard whar you's thinkin' o' gwine is Mahs'r Morrises," said the minister. "You don' 'spose Ise gwine ter any ob dose low down orchards on de udder side de creek, does ye? Mahs'r Morris has got the bes' apples in dis county.
She was a fine ratter, and with the assistance of a Maltese cat, also a member of the family, the many rats which infested the house and stables were driven away or destroyed. She and the cat were fed out of the same plate, but Dart was not allowed to begin the meal until the cat had finished. Spec was born at Fort Hamilton, and was the joy of us children, our pet and companion.
A Queensland drover once took a big mob from the Gulf right down through New South Wales, selling various lots as he went. He had to deliver some to a small sheep-man, near Braidwood, who was buying a few hundred cattle as a spec. By the time they arrived, the cattle had been on the road eight months, and were quiet as milkers.
Word Of The Day