Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 27, 2025
These priests, grouped in the forward part of the raft, prayed at regular intervals, raising their voices in the silent night, and at the end of each sentence of their prayer, the "Slava Bogu," Glory to God! issued from their lips. No incident took place during the night.
"Let me sew it on, Your High Well-born," he cried. Seeing our surprise, he added, "God is my witness, yay Bogu! I am a tailor by trade." His rent and faded coat did not seem to indicate anything of the sort, but I thought I would try him, as I happened to have a needleful of silk and a thimble in my pocket. I gave them to him accordingly.
No ... very well for the moment.... Two Englishmen here sitting in my trench truth itself! Well, what about the Second 'Rota'? Are they coming down?... Yeh Bogu, I don't know! What do you say?..." The young officer, in a very gentle and melodious voice, offered Trenchard, who was sitting next to him, some supper. "One of these cutlets?" Trenchard, blushing and stammering, refused.
Yay Bogu, it was not my fault. The Virgin herself knows that the carpenter forced me to it. I'll never do it again, never. God is my witness! Barynya! Ba-a-rynya! Ba-a-a-a-a-a-rynya!" in an indescribable, subdued howl.
"He'll work," I said, surprised at the heat that I felt in Trenchard's defence. "He's a splendid fellow." "I have no doubt" again Semyonov laughed. "We all know your enthusiasms, Ivan Andreievitch, ... but an Englishman! Ye Bogu!..." "Engaged to that girl!" I heard him repeat to himself as again he rode forward.
The great bear was tracked, and after a long and exciting chase, fell by the hand of Prince Alexis himself. When the serfs saw the Prince mount astride of it, with his ladle in his hand, they burst into shouts of extravagant joy. "Slava Bogu!" They tumbled headlong over each other, in their efforts to drink first from the ladle, to clasp the knees or kiss the hands of the restored Prince.
The murder of Rasputin was a sign, a symbol; his figure had been behind the scenes so long that it had become mythical, something beyond human power and now, behold, it was not beyond human power at all, but was there like a dead stinking fish. I could see the thought in their minds as they hurried along: "Ah, he is gone, the dirty fellow Slava Bogu the war will soon be over."
From, as it appeared, a great distance, I heard the Colonel's voice: "Slava Bogu, another step to the right and we'd not have had time to say 'good-bye.... Get in there, you ... with your head out like that, do you want another?" I was conscious then of Andrey Vassilievitch sitting huddled on the ground of the trench, his head tucked into his chest. "You're not hurt, are you?"
How could any one have the conscience to rob an honest, innocent man like you so dreadfully?" He looked dazed, and the last time I cast a furtive glance behind me he had not recovered sufficiently to dash after me and overwhelm me with protestations of his uprightness, yay Bogu! and other lingual cascades. What is the remedy for this state of things?
It began to look as though our thirst was to be quenched in some degree, since we were in this man's power as to a vehicle, and it might be true that we should not be able to obtain any other in the town, or any horses in the villages, if indeed there were any villages. Fortified by another volley of "Yay Bogu" of triumphant fervor, we survived a second wait.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking