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Updated: May 27, 2025
Yer may hide, yer may run in de swamps, yer may climb de trees, but, bredren, efn eber dem famines git atter yer, yer gone! dey'll cotch yer! dey's nuffin like 'em on de face uv de yearth, les'n hit's de s'ord; dar ain't much chice twix dem two. Wen hit comes ter s'ords an' famines, I tell yer, gemmun, hit's nip an' tuck.
They jist played with 'im like a cat plays with a mouse. But at last it was ended, an' Pritchen, who was chairman, stood up, an', said he: "'We give ye yer chice; hit the trail in two hours, or stay here an' take yer dose from us. "I kin see the parson standin' thar now with a wonnerful look on his face.
Beecot ain't got money, but his looks is takin', and his 'eart is all that an angel can want. My pretty's chice," added the maiden, shaking an admonitory finger, "and my pretty's happiness, so don't you go a-spilin' of it." "I have nothing to say, save to regret that a young lady in possession of five thousand a year should make a hasty contract like this," said Mr.
"Nor do I, but it's loikely to be a chice between shooting him or him shooting ye, and ye are at liberty to decide." And with a few parting words of caution the Irishman took his departure, first pausing long enough to advise Tom to change his quarters if he was spared until the morrow, and suggesting that the wisest thing he could do was to get out of New York as speedily as he knew how.
"Ye see, mem, it's a pairt o' the edication o' the human individual, frae the time o' Adam and Eve doonwith, to learn to refuse the evil and chowse the guid. Noo, my pupil, here, mem, your son, has eaten that dirt and made that chice. It's three weeks, mem, sin ae drop o' whusky has passed his mou." "Whisky!" exclaimed the mother. "Alec! Is it possible?" "Mem, mem!
Mixed wi' thistles, mebbe? An' then he used a bit of 'is master's or'nary language, which as ye knows, Passon, is chice partic'ler chice. 'Evil communications c'rupts good manners' even in a valet wot 'as no more to do than wash an' comb a man like a 'oss, an' pocket fifty pun a year for keepin' of 'is haristocratic master clean. Lor'! what a wurrld it is! what a wurrld!"
"Do you take tea, or coffee, Mr. Gargery?" asked Herbert, who always presided of a morning. "Thankee, Sir," said Joe, stiff from head to foot, "I'll take whichever is most agreeable to yourself." "What do you say to coffee?" "Thankee, Sir," returned Joe, evidently dispirited by the proposal, "since you are so kind as make chice of coffee, I will not run contrairy to your own opinions.
Let me go, my good woman; I can't stand here all night." "Des a minute, marster. Dese yer chickings ain' never sot dey feet on de yearth, caze dey's been riz right in de cabin, en dey's done et dar vittles outer de same plate wid me en Cephus. Ef'n dey spy a chice bit er bacon on de een er de knife hit 'uz moughty likely ter fin' hits way down dir throat instid er down me en Cephus'."
You walks up and takes yer chice; leastways, you makes it: somebody else takes it. Mat. Wouldn't you like to take your choice sometimes, Bill? Bill. In course I would. Mat. Then why don't you work, and better yourself a bit? Bill. Bless you, Mattie! myself is werry comf'able. He never complains. Mat. You're hungry sometimes, ain't you? Bill. Most remarkable 'ungry, Mattie this werry moment.
Anderson, yer ain cousin. He hintit at it afore, but his last letter leaves nae room to doobt upo' the subjeck. I'm unco sorry to be the beirer o' sic ill news, Mrs. Faukner, but I had nae chice. 'Ohone! Ohone! the day o' grace is by at last! My puir Anerew! exclaimed Mrs. Falconer, and sat dumb thereafter. Mr. Lammie tried to comfort her with some of the usual comfortless commonplaces.
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