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Updated: June 23, 2025
Why, to tell yo truth, we never had nought to stir on. My husband does bod get varra little upo th' hand-loom i' th' best o' times 5s. a week or so. He weighves a sort o' check seventy-three yards for 3s." The back door opened into a little damp yard, hemmed in by brick walls. Over in the next yard we could see a man bustling about, and singing in a loud voice, "Hard times come again no more."
"I have one son," said she; "he's a sailmaker. He's th' best off of any of 'em. But, Lord bless yo; he's not able to help us. He gets very little, and he has to pay a woman to nurse his sick wife. . . . This lad that's here, he's a little grandson o' mine; he's one of my dowter's childer. He brings his meight with him every day, an' sleeps with us. They han bod one bed, yo see.
'Tha'lt rouse thysen up a bit again, now, Maggie, the father-in-law said and then to me: ''ers not bin very bright sin' Alfred came whoam, an' the bod flyed awee. 'E come whoam a Wednesday night, Alfred did. But ay, you knowed, didna yer. Ay, 'e comed 'a Wednesday an' I reckon there wor a bit of a to-do between 'em, worn't there, Maggie?
She disappeared in an instant, and he never saw her afterwards, but heard her voice in the window of his room one night after, requesting him to take care of the children, in these words: "Rhag bod anwyd ar fy mab, Yn rhodd rhowch arno gob ei dad: Rhag bod anwyd ar liw'r cann, Rhoddwch arni bais ei mam." That is,
And a general laugh went up over this extravagant statement. "The same old Spud!" cried Sam, as he gave the story-teller of the college a nudge in the ribs. "Spud, you are about as bad as Tom." "Chust vat I tinks," came from Max Spangler, a German-American student who was still struggling with the difficulties of the language. "Only I tinks bod of dem vas worser dan de udder."
An' the new one was bronze nine hundred pounds ut cost, an' then wantun' their returns out o' ut, an' me wuth a bod passage an' lossin' time every day. 'We regret tull note your long passage from Voloparaiso tull Sydney wuth an average daily run o' only one hundred an' suxty-seven. We hod expected better results wuth the new propeller.
The muscles of her neck and the veins of her forehead stand out like cords, while perspiration streams from her bod. Taking a shield and head-axe in her hand, she does a sort of muscle dance, then goes to each member of the family, and strikes the weapons together over their heads; from them she goes to the doors and windows, and strikes at them with the axe.
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