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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Say, little gal," he said, with a deep note of sympathy in his rumbling tones, "we're bein' hit up pretty bad since Jeff bro't her back home. Maybe we're feelin' 'bout as foolish as we're lookin'. But we're goin' to beat the game sure, eh? We're goin' to beat it because we're built that way, an' we got the grit to do it." The horses were walking leisurely over the summer grass.
So I bro't 'em in, but when they seen the outside of it they said they didn't want to look at it no more too big and too crumbly!" "And since then no one has been here?" "Not a soul leastways nobody that I seen. I don't s'pose you think o' buyin' the house, doc'! It's too lonely for an office, ain't it?" "You're right, Scudder, much too lonely.
He took everything of their property only. Also all the Indian Pledges he has bro't and delivered me, expecting some payment. I cannot say how far this was legal for a Privateer, but I am extremely glad it is done." The situation at the mouth of the St. John had now become intolerable; the inhabitants were well nigh beggared and the end of their trials apparently had not yet been reached.
Well, I don't belong to the good people, so go ahead I don't s'pose you know much about sawin' wood, bro't up as you've been; but you can't do it wuss than me. I don't belong to any one. What I was made for I can't see, unless it is to be a torment to myself. Nobody can stand me. I can't stand myself.
They ain't easy handlin'. They got to be bro't up reg'lar, an' their stummicks ain't to be pizened with no wrong sort o' vittles. Ther's such a heap o' things to kids o' that age it makes me nigh sweat at the tho't. Howsum, Zip's down an' out, an' we got to see him right someways.
To show how universally liquor was served to all who had to do with a funeral, let me give the bill for the mortuary expenses of David Porter, of Hartford, who was drowned in 1678. "By a pint of liquor for those who dived for him. 1s. By a quart of liquor for those who bro't him home. 2s. By two quarts of wine & 1 gallon of cyder to jury of inquest. 5s.
I wish I had more money with me, but you will see me again, and I will make it all right with you." "It's all right now, mas'r. What wouldn't I do for Missy Rita? When my ole mammy was sick she bro't med'cin, and a right smart lot ob tings, and brung her troo de weariness. Golly!
During these latter, have revised and printed over all my books bro't out "November Boughs" and at intervals leisurely and exploringly travel'd to the Prairie States, the Rocky Mountains, Canada, to New York, to my birthplace in Long Island, and to Boston. But physical disability and the war-paralysis above alluded to to have settled upon me more and more the last year or so.
"Say, missie, it's jest this, you're the Golden Woman who bro't us our luck. Some of us ain't got your name right, nor nuthin'. Anyway that don't figger nuthin'. We ain't had no luck till you come along, so you're jest our Golden Woman, an' we're goin' to hand you " Joan started back as though the man had struck her. Her beautiful cheeks went a ghastly pallor. "No no!" she cried half-wildly.
"'I know not why I love her, The fair an' beau'chus she; She bro't the cuss upon me, Und'neath the apple-tree: But she asked me for my jack knife, And halved 'er squar' with me, Sence all'as lovely woman Gives the biggest half to thee." "Judah's wife writ that," exclaimed Captain Pharo, with a generic awe of poetry as poetry.
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