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One Saturday arternoon old Sal Gunn wur in the church a-cleanin' The Hall brasses, an' jist afore sundown, as she wur a-comin' away, she 'eeared a awful scrimmage an squealin' in the crypt, and she 'eeared the v'ice o' the Squoire a-callin' out, and she 'eeared Tom Wynne's v'ice a-cussin' an' a-swearin' at 'im.
One day she died an' left a mite of a baby; an' he was so mad he swore he 'wouldn't bury her; the neighbors might bury her, an' the brat, too, if they liked. As he was a-swearin' an' a-tearin' with all his might, an' a-callin' on God to cuss him ef he didn't do so an' so, all of a suddent, just as his mouth opened with a oath, he was struck speechless, an' never has spoke a word till this day! leastways, not that I ever heard ov."
When they see me a-comin' they stops talkin', if it's what they wouldn't want their daughters to hear; an' there ain't no dirty back talk, neither. An' I make me own men civil, too, with a dacint tongue in their heads. I had a young strip of a lad once who would be a-swearin' round the stables.
I al'ys think there's nobody looks half so well as the missis when she's got her 'air done nice. Lors! I wish I'd got long 'air like her my 'air's a-comin' off dreadful. 'There'll be fine work to-morrow, I expect, said Betty, 'when the master comes home, an' Dawes a-swearin' as he'll niver do a stroke o' work for him again.
He ain't never killed one, but he's gotten two Chinamen and a mule, and we've got to put a stop to it. He's tied up in the cellar a-swearin' that if he gits loose he'll come upstairs and furnish material for nineteen fancy funerals with silver name-plates. But, don't you worry, Reverend. He can't hurt a fly 'less he gits loose. Here's your room.
As I sat thus I was joined by Mandy McGovern, who pulled out her contemplative pipe. "Did you see my boy, Andy Jackson?" she asked. "He went acrost with the first bunch nary stitch of clothes on to him. He ain't much thicker'n a straw, but say he was a-rastlin' them mules and a-swearin' like a full-growed man! I certainly have got hopes that boy's goin' to come out all right.
'e was in evenin' dress, and wore a light coat over it, an' a soft 'at." "The very man," said the detective below his breath; "go on." "He went into Mr. Whyte's room, an' shut the door. I don't know how long they were talkin' together; but I was sittin' in this very room and heard their voices git angry, and they were a-swearin' at one another, which is the way with men, the brutes.
We'll get the boys an' slip down to the warehouse an' take the pilgrim out an' slip a noose around his neck an' set him on a horse an' ride out of town a-cussin' him an' a-swearin' to lynch him. He won't know but what we aim to hang him to the first likely cottonwood, an' we'll have a lot of fun with him. An' no one else won't know it, neither.
On the Captain inquiring what had occurred, "It's little Billy True Blue, sir, standing up and a-swearin' as how he'll drub the Frenchmen," was the answer.
"My grandfather's entirely respectable distilling business was closed out before I was born." "'Twa'n't b'fore your pa was made a drunkard, Ross Shelby." He went red with impotent anger. "By God!" he swore. "If if you were a man " "There you go a-swearin' at a poor weak female." "Let me pass," he choked. "Let me pass. I don't know what I may say to you." She stepped aside.
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