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Updated: June 23, 2025
Don't you think God will take us pretty soon?" continued she, patting the baby's head, and leaning over to kiss its brow, "I'm all ready to go, and Georgie wants me, too." "Shure, and the child'll be an angel before long, I'm thinking!" said Biddy, as May arose and took her hand to go home; "the misthress would be greeting sair if she heard all her little prattle."
"You've bin a fool, Seraminta," said the man, looking down at the baby as she lay flushed with sleep on the woman's lap, her cheeks still wet with tears. "The child'll git us into trouble. That's no common child. Anyone 'ud know it agen, and then where are we? In quod, sure as my name's Perrin." "You're the fool," replied the woman, looking at the man scornfully.
"I'm a pilgrim, an' don't brake my leg upon the rock, an' my blessin' an you!" "Oh, murdher sheery! my poor child'll be smothered!" "My heart's curse an you! is it the ould cripple you're trampin' over?" "Here, Barny, blood alive, give this purty young girl a lift, your sowl, or she'll soon be undhermost!" "'Och, 'twas on a Christmas mornin' That Jeroosillim was born in The Holy Land'
The good woman stooped over and placed the child's little hand for a moment on the icy forehead. The little one gave a piercing scream, and struggled to get away; and as soon as she was put down, she ran and hid her face in Aunt Roxy's dress, sobbing bitterly. "That child'll grow up to follow vanity," said Mrs.
Why, she told her these very words says she: 'Your next child'll be a girl with jet-black curls, and she'll suffer from spasms." "Mercy!" murmured Ann Eliza, a ripple of sympathy running down her spine. "D'you ever have spasms before, Miss Mellins?" Evelina asked. "Yes, ma'am," the dress-maker declared. "And where'd you suppose I had 'em?
Then art takes its revenge and we are bad artists, because we are poor and sterilised human beings. But you' he spoke with fresh energy, composing himself 'don't talk rot! as though your chance was done. You'll find her she'll come back to you when she's drunk the cup. Healthy young women don't die before thirty-five; and by your account she wasn't bad she had a conscience. The child'll waken it.
That child'll come to a bad end yet. How do you like that colour, Miss C.?" She had a nest of cloth-patterns in her lap, and held one up as she spoke. "Oh, you shouldn't say such things," remonstrated Miss Chapman. "There's many a true word said in jest." She settled her glasses on her nose. "It's very nice, but I think I like a bottle-green better."
Ay, maybe he was good-tempered and the child'll be allowed to live." Ditte burst into tears; she thought it looked bad for little Povl, if his life depended on the inn-keeper. He was vexed with them because the little ones were not sent to Sunday-school perhaps he was taking his revenge.
"Well, I hope you understand that this'll ruin you in this town. If you didn't strike him, they'll say you run him into the culvert, 'n' every man, woman, 'n' child'll be down on you, and me f'r bein' related to you. They all know how you feel toward him for cuttin' you out with Maud Welsh." "Oh, don't bear down on him too hard, Joe.
The little girl in the old book is always thinking of what she is "going to be." Uncle Jerry Cobb spoiled me a good deal in this direction. I remember he said to everybody when I wrote my verses for the flag-raising: "Nary rung on the ladder o' fame but that child'll climb if you give her time!" poor Uncle Jerry! He will be so disappointed in me as time goes on.
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