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Updated: June 15, 2025


"'Ow be they a-gettin' on in Durbysher?" lately enquired a man at Coln-St-Aldwyns. "Bedad!" answered his friend, "there won't be many left in Durbysher if they goes on a-killin' un much longer." Another story lately told me in the same village was as follows: An old lady went to the stores to buy candles, and was astonished to find that owing to the Spanish-American war "candles was riz."

"Well, child, I am pleased to see you so spry," said Grannie. Her voice felt quite choking when she entered the big, luxurious house. "I'll be able to keep it up fine," she murmured to herself. "Lor', I'm a sight better; it was the air of that place that was a-killin' me. I'll keep it up afore the chil'en, and ef I can manage to do that, why bless the Lord for all his mercies."

If we'uns hain't killin' more o' yo'uns than yo'uns is a-killin' o' we'uns, we'uns air both wastin' a powerful lot o' powder an' lead and good shootin'. What d' yo'uns say to King's excuse for awhile?" "We're agreed," said Si promptly, stepping from behind the tree, and leaving his gun standing against it. "Hit's a go," responded the rebels, coming out disarmed.

"Now unlock the door, an' let 'em in. They worry so. Gran'pop hasn't slep' a night since I was hurted, an' Jennie goes round cryin' all the time, sayin' they 'll be a-killin' me next." Then, rising to her feet, she called out in a cheery voice, as Babcock opened the door, "Come in, Jennie; come in Gran'pop. It's all over, child. Mr.

'Well! but keepin' a hoss wouldn't hinder you from workin'. It 'ud help you to do more, though Pratt says as it's usin' your voice so constant as does you the most harm. Now, isn't it I'm no scholard, Mr. Tryan, an' I'm not a-goin' to dictate to you but isn't it a'most a-killin' o' yourself, to go on a' that way beyond your strength? We mustn't fling ower lives away.

Oh, Mammy, don't! You'se a-killin' me!" came in a high shriek. Then there was a sudden dash for the cabin door, and an eight-year-old colored boy scurried down the path like a little wild rabbit, as fast as his bare feet could carry him.

Ain't there a table right there by the window, all a-waitin' for him an' an' " Invariably he broke off there, to peer furtively at the sun, before he whipped up his horse. "Git along!" he admonished her earnestly, then, "Git along you! Nobody believes in ghosts leastwise, I don't. But they ain't no sense nor reason in just a-killin' time on the road, neither.

"These here liquor laws 't Washin'ton 's put onto nor'eastern Maine are a-killin' on us for a fash'nable summer resort.

There was a moment's pause; then Jeremiah sprang to his feet, thrust his hands into his pockets, and paced the tiny bedroom from end to end. "Hester, this thing's a-killin' me!" he blurted out at last. "Here I'm seventy-eight years old an' I hain't got money enough ter buy my wife a pair of shoes!" "But the farm, Jeremiah " "I tell ye the farm ain't mine," cut in Jeremiah savagely.

I've come a-killin'!" he said in a low, tense voice, the words coming with a snap, jerkily, like the separate and distinct lashes of a whip. Not a man in the room moved, nor did their fascinated eyes waver for an instant from Shorty's face. "Where's Slade?" He shot the words at them.

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