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Updated: June 7, 2025
Blow's time the organist of Westminster Abbey has always been a more business-like person, though rarely, if ever, a fine artist. Dr. Blow, living amongst men of such genius, caught a little a very little of Humphries' and Purcell's lordly manner in the writing of music; but no sweet breath of inspiration ever blew his way.
'Twas more nor an hour ago, and I've been able to do nothing since, but sit here and weep; I couldn't redd up after that." "Warn't it the quadrepid?" asked Peckaby in a mocking tone. "No, it weren't," she moaned. "It were nothing but that white pony of Farmer Blow's." "Him, was it," said Peckaby, with affected scorn.
Their noiseless footsteps may have made Sultan uneasy, for he suddenly crept out of his kennel and sat in front of it, rattling his chain. "Perhaps you're right," observed Soloveitchik sadly, "but was it absolutely necessary? Would it not have been better if you had borne the blow?" "Better?" said Sanine. "A blow's always a painful thing. And why? For what reason?"
"I hope you'll ask him, sir, when he comes to, whether it were not that thing in the pound as frightened him. I took it for some'at else, more's the grief! but it looks, for all the world, like a ghost in the moonlight." "What is in the pound?" demanded Jan. "It's a white cow," responded Susan Peckaby. "And it strikes me as it's Farmer Blow's.
Peckaby caught one glimpse, and bounded from her seat, her chest panting, her nostrils working. The signs betrayed how implicit was the woman's belief; how entirely it had taken hold of her. Alas! for Mrs. Peckaby. Alas! for her disappointment. It was nothing but that deceiving animal again, Farmer Blow's white pony.
"No use in laying to," said Ben, after he had been consulted as to the advisability of going ahead. "The blow's as bad now as it will get, and we are being driven back every minute we aren't going forward. There's no such thing at sea as standing still." The drag was accordingly hauled aboard, at no small risk; but the oil bags were left to drip their calming lubricant alongside.
This is the only excuse I can offer for lingering on the barque longer than, as circumstances proved, I ought to have done. At last I got up and said I must be off, and I thanked him most kindly for the obliging reception of me, and for his goodness in supplying the brig with water, and I gave him Captain Blow's compliments, and desired to know if we could accommodate him in any way in return.
If thou knewest the pain that befel me by thy buffet, thou wouldst ken that even the elephant could not stand against it nor endure it: but I complain not of this blow's hurt, because of the joy and gladness that hath betided me through it; for though it was to me exceeding sore yet was its issue of the happiest.
You can tow across the lagoon with your whaleboats." "It's all right, old man," said Darling, the mate of the Cactus, a stalwart youngster of twenty-five. "The blow's to the southward and passing on. We'll not get a whiff of it." An air of relief went through the room. Conversations were started, and the voices became louder.
"Hold on," demurred Luke. "You'll have to excuse your friend just now," said Marco. "Very important, Wildwood," he added. "What is it, Mr. Marco?" inquired Andy. Marco showed two folded sheets of writing paper in his hand. "Your contract with the circus," he explained. "There's a bad hitch in this business. Hope to straighten it out, but we'll have to get right at it. Come to Billy Blow's tent.
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