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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Well, in one sense, I don't mind saying yes." "Well," said the Irishman, still full of mirth, and swinging his legs with fresh vigor, "he'd aht to 'a' sint ye to the ligislatur." "I'm in hopes he will," said the little rector; "but" checking the Irishman's renewed laughter "tell me why should other men's injustice in here stop me from preaching God's mercy?" "Because it's pairt your injustice!
'Tike care of meself why? asked Liza, in surprise. 'Yer know wot I mean. 'Na, I'm darned if I do. 'Thet there Mrs. Blakeston, she's lookin' aht for you. 'Mrs. Blakeston! Liza was startled. 'Yus; she says she's goin' ter give you somethin' if she can git 'old on yer. I should advise yer ter tike care. 'Me? said Liza. Sally looked away, so as not to see the other's face.
"Oi meets genelmen on the road," he said, "as arsks me why Oi don't gaow to wurk; a great big upstandin' chap loike you, they sez, loafin' abaht and doin' nothin' why it's disgraiceful! Well, I sez, guv'nor, I sez, 'ow can Oi go to wurk? Oi'm a skilled wurkman, I sez, in me own trade, but Oi'm froze aht by modern machinery.
"Now, March, sing, 'Thou wert the first, thou aht the layst, an' th'ow yo' whole soul into it like you did last night!" "John," said Champion once, after March had sung this lament, "You're a plumb fraud. If you wa'n't you couldn't sing that thing an' then turn round and sing, 'They laughed, ha-ha! and they quaffed, ha-ha!" "Let's have it!" cried Shotwell.
The E-coulth-aht, is one of the many divisions of what Gilbert Malcolm Sproat called "the Aht tribes" inhabiting the west coast of Vancouver Island. Po-po-moh-ah, is now known by the Spanish name "San Mateo Bay" situated on the east side of Barkley Sound, not far from the entrance to the Alberni Canal.
'I expect yer caught cold in the Faurest yesterday. 'I see your mash as I was comin' along this mornin'. Liza stared a little. 'I ain't got one, 'oo d'yer mean, ay? 'Yer only Tom, of course. 'E did look washed aht. Wot was yer doin' with 'im yesterday? ''E ain't got nothin' ter do with me, 'e ain't. 'Garn, don't you tell me!
The ordinary sapper is a great deal better educated than the common soldier, and they discussed the peculiar conditions of the possible fight with some acuteness. I described the Heat-Ray to them, and they began to argue among themselves. "Crawl up under cover and rush 'em, say I," said one. "Get aht!" said another. "What's cover against this 'ere 'eat? Sticks to cook yer!
'Strikes me you got aht of bed the wrong way this mornin', she said to him. 'Yer didn't think thet when yer said you'd come aht with me. He emphasized the 'me'. Liza shrugged her shoulders. 'You give me the 'ump, she said. 'If yer wants ter mike a fool of yerself, you can go elsewhere an' do it. 'I suppose yer want me ter go awy now, he said angrily. 'I didn't say I did.
'Well, yer might 'ave come up and said good mornin' when you see me. 'I didn't want ter force myself on, yer, Liza. 'Garn! You are a bloomin' cuckoo. I'm blowed! 'I thought yer didn't like me 'angin' round yer; so I kep' awy. 'Why, yer talks as if I didn't like yer. Yer don't think I'd 'ave come aht beanfeastin' with yer if I 'adn't liked yer?
'Fight it aht fair and square. Don't go scratchin' and maulin' like thet. 'I'll fight 'er, I don't mind! shouted Mrs. Blakeston, tucking up her sleeves and savagely glaring at her opponent. Liza stood in front of her, pale and trembling; as she looked at her enemy, and saw the long red marks of her nails, with blood coming from one or two of them, she shrank back.
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