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Updated: August 31, 2025
A little boy was playing on Athelstane's knee; Rowena smiling and patting the Saxon Thane fondly on his broad bullhead, filled him a huge cup of spiced wine from a golden jug. He drained a quart of the liquor, and, turning round, addressed the friar: "And so, gray frere, thou sawest good King Richard fall at Chalus by the bolt of that felon bowman?" "We did, an it please you.
If the boy's shirt is sleeveless, his hat crownless, and his pants a bottomless pit, the bullhead will bite just as well as though the boy is dressed in purple and fine linen, with knee breeches and plaid stockings. The bull head seems to be dozing bulldozing we might say on the muddy bottom, and a stranger might say that he would not bite. But wait.
To catch the bullhead it is not necessary to tempt his appetite with porter house steak, or to display an expensive lot of fishing tackle. A pin hook, a piece of liver, and a cistern pole, is all the capital required to catch a bullhead. He lays upon the bottom of a stream or pond in the mud, thinking.
Don't lose your head and your temper, both at the same time. You're not in the right trim just now to go against that bullhead. Let's estimate him squarely. That's always my plan in business." Mr. Daunt plucked a cigar from a box on the table and lighted up leisurely, soothing himself into a matter-of-fact mood.
The meat of the bullhead is not as choice as that of the mackerel, but it fills up a stomach just as well, and the Sun insists that the fish commissioners shall drop the hatching of aristocratic fish and give the bullhead a chance. There's millions in it. You devote a good deal of time and labor to the raising of sheep, and what do you get for it.
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