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A negro carter was joking with an apple-woman at the entrance of the dock. The steamer was out of sight. I found that I was belated and hurried back to my desk. Alas! poor lovers; I wonder if they are watching still? Has he fallen exhausted from the post into the water? Is that handkerchief, bleached and rent, still pendant upon that somewhat baggy umbrella?
The hippopotamus shut his eyes for a minute. "That bird's dead," said the little girl; "come along." Terbourg They then went for a walk and, in Kensington Gore, near one of the entrances to Hyde Park or Kensington Gardens, there was an old Irish apple-woman sitting with her feet in a basket, smoking a pipe and selling oranges. "Arranges two a penny, sorr," said the old woman in a general way.
The open, obvious, democratic thing is to believe an old apple-woman when she bears testimony to a miracle, just as you believe an old apple-woman when she bears testimony to a murder. The plain, popular course is to trust the peasant's word about the ghost exactly as far as you trust the peasant's word about the landlord.
To be brief, the compilation was completed, I got paid in the usual manner, and forthwith left him. He was a clever man, but what a difference in clever men! It was past mid-winter, and I sat on London Bridge, in company with the old apple-woman: she had just returned to the other side of the bridge to her place in the booth where I had originally found her.
He met the sailor son of the old Apple-Woman returning from his enforced exile; Murtagh tells him of how the postilion frightened the Pope at Rome by his denunciation, a story Borrow had already heard from the postilion himself; the Hungarian at Horncastle narrates how an Armenian once silenced a Moldavian, the same Moldavian whom Borrow had encountered in London; the postilion meets the man in black again.
If you'll tell me where you live I'll send or bring you any news I may hear." "I live with Mrs. O'Keefe, my good friend, here." "I haven't my kyard with me, Tim," said the apple-woman, "but I'll give you my strate and number. You know my place of business?" "Yes." "If you come to me there I'll let Florence know whatever you tell me. She is not always at home."
"Is he now? And what's the matter wid Bridget O'Keefe?" asked the apple-woman. "Excuse me, Mrs. O'Keefe. I know very well you are my friend, and a kind friend, too. I should not have forgotten you." "It's all right, Florence. You're flustrated like, and that's why you forget me." "I have so few friends that I can't spare one," continued Florence. "That's so.
Don't you want to see the Guard turn out at noon, and hear the trumpet blow? Well, come on to the bridge! Nancy, the apple-woman, is there too." The shop near the bridge to which they resorted was dark and low, but learning was spread upon its counter, and a benevolent dragon of knowledge in horn spectacles ran over the wares for Lewis Rand. "De Jure Maritimo, six shillings eightpence, my lad.
"Lost it," said I; "left it at home what do you mean? Come, let me have it." "I ha'n't got it, child." "I believe you have got it under your cloak." "Don't tell any one, dear; don't don't," and the apple-woman burst into tears. "What's the matter with you?" said I, staring at her. "You want to take my book from me?"
"Well, well!" ejaculated the apple-woman. "So it's that ould thafe of the worruld, Curtis Waring, that has got hold of poor Dodger, just as Tim told us. It seems mighty quare to me that he should want to stale poor Dodger. If it was you, now, I could understand it." "It seems strange to me, Mrs. O'Keefe," said Florence, thoughtfully.
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