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Updated: June 12, 2025
An' I said to myself then, if ever I was prospered I'd have a magenta sofy. I 'ain't got to it till now, but now I'll have it if I die for't." "Well, I guess you're in the right on't." Miss Dyer spoke absently, glancing from the window in growing trouble. "O Mis' Blair!" she continued, with a sudden burst of confidence, "you don't think there's a storm brewin', do you?
"Fell into the river," he said, turning with a reassuring smile to Lucy, "but he ain't hurt none only kinder weak, you know. I reckon a little hot tea would help some, bein' as we're out of whiskey, and while you're brewin' it I'll git these wet clothes off. Yes'm, we're havin' a little trouble, but that's only them locoed Mexicans shootin' off their spare ammunition."
"Wall, wall, ma," he said, "it don't make no difference whether it's a wind-storm or a rain-storm that I know on, but a tempest it's brewin', sartin sure. I remember once, we'd had a spell o' weather jest like this, and it begun to gether up in the same way. It was in the same latitude, teacher, same latitude. I was off cruisin' with Bob Henchy whew! That ar' was a singin' gale!
But as I wus sayin', Gene caught on to this yere Injun war last spring I reckon ol' Koleta, his Injun father-in-law, likely told him what wus brewin' he's sorter a war-chief. Anyhow he knew thet hell wus to pay, an' so we natch'ally gathered up our long-horns an' drove 'em east whar they would n't be raided.
Arter that the women set a new trouble a brewin'. Then they begun to talk that it was a year now since Mis' Carryl died; and it r'ally wasn't proper such a young gal to be stayin' there, who everybody could see was a settin' her cap for the minister.
"That's a good job, Slag, but don't you forget, my lad, that the blue ribbon won't save you. There's but one Saviour of men. Nevertheless, it's well to fight our battles under a flag, an' the blue is a good one as things go. Show your colours and never say die; that's my motto. As you said, Slag, the glass is uncommon low to-day. I shouldn't wonder if there was dirty weather brewin' up somewhere."
The Count Guiccardini and some other persons of social position at Florence and its neighbourhood joined the Vaudois Church in 1850. The same year a Vaudois missionary was appointed to Turin, chiefly by the liberality of two English gentlemen, Messrs. Brewin and Milsom.
In January, 1855, while over on business, I had a public debate at Halifax, England, with Brewin Grant, a congregational minister. This, so far as its impression on my own mind was concerned, was the most unfortunate discussion I ever had. My opponent was the meanest and most unprincipled or ill-principled man I ever met.
He's a sheepman. Lately there's been herders shot at. Just now we're short an' I have to fill in. But I like shepherdin' an' I love the woods, and the Rim Rock an' all the Tonto. If they were all, I'd shore be happy." "Herders shot at!" exclaimed Jean, thoughtfully. "By whom? An' what for?" "Trouble brewin' between the cattlemen down in the Basin an' the sheepmen up on the Rim.
"When I hears thunder," said Clo, sententiously, "I allers takes it there's a storm brewin'." Vic looked more puzzled than ever, and Dolf was not much better off, though he tried to appear full to the brim with wisdom and sagacity. "Yer 'members the night missus lost her bracelet, Mr. Dolf?" asked Clo. "I does bery well."
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