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Updated: June 7, 2025
Lend me a cigareet, will you, Rosy?" Rosy gravely reached into his blouse and brought forth a little package filled with tobacco pulp. "You're welcome, Jemmy," he said gravely. "Help yourself." "Begorra!" growled the Irishman, "ye might have kept thim dry." "That's a good word!" exclaimed Mr. MacMasters, briskly, struggling to rise. "We all need to get dry.
Give me a goold-tipped cigareet, an' tell me whether shirt waists is much worn in New York this year. "Yis, Hinnissy, we'll put th' tastiest ar-rmy in th' field that iver come out iv a millinery shop.
This cigareet case is worth more 'n all the stuff I ever owned, an' I'm sure obliged to you." He replaced the article in Gray's hand. "Eh? Won't you accept it? Why not?" "I Oh, I dunno." Gray pondered this refusal for a moment before saying, "Perhaps you think I'm trying to make a good impression on you, so you'll buy some diamonds?" "Mebbe." Buddy averted his eyes. He was in real distress.
Dooley: "Nowadays when a lad goes to college, the prisidint takes him into a Turkish room, gives him a cigareet an' says: Me dear boy, what special branch iv larnin wud ye like to have studied f'r ye be our compitint perfessors?" Such are some of the caustic remarks that we occasionally hear.
If a man wud rather take thim thin dhrink at a bar or go down to Hop Lung's f'r a long dhraw, he's within his rights. Manny a man have I known who was a victim iv th' tortures iv a cigareet cough who is now livin' comfortable an' happy as an opeem fiend be takin' Doctor Wheezo's Consumption Cure. I knew a fellow wanst who suffered fr'm spring fever to that extent that he niver did a day's wurruk.
"Referring to Charles Belknap Hyphen Jackson of Boston, Mass.," said he, "the greatest little trouble-maker that ever crossed the hills with a bracelet on one wrist and a watch on the other and a one-shot eyeglass and a gold cigareet case and key chains, rings, bangles, and jewellery till he'd sink like lead if he ever fell into the crick with all that metal on."
'Tis called real life an' mebbe that's what it is, but f'r me I don't want to see real life on th' stage. I can see that anny day. What I want is f'r th' spotless gintleman to saw th' la-ad with th' cigareet into two-be-fours an' marry th' lady that doesn't dhrink much while th' aujeence is puttin' on their coats." "Why don't they play Shakespere any more?" Mr. Hennessy asked.
'Ye're goin' to teach thim that a man doesn't have to use an ax to get along in th' wurruld. Ye're goin' to teach thim that a la-ad with a curlin' black mustache an' smokin' a cigareet is always a villyan, whin he's more often a barber with a lar-rge family. Life, says ye! There's no life in a book. If ye want to show thim what life is, tell thim to look around thim.
Bantry's house was run for him, like Louden's is now." "And look," exclaimed Mr. Arp, with satisfaction, "at the way he's turned out!" "He ain't turned out at all yet; he's too young," said Buckalew. "Besides, clothes don't make the man." "Wasn't he smokin' a cigareet!" cried Eskew, triumphantly. This was final. "It's a pity Henry Louden can't do something for his own son," said Mr. Bradbury.
If he's not sthrong enough to look f'r high honors as a middle weight pugilist he goes into th' thought departmint. Th' prisidint takes him into a Turkish room, gives him a cigareet an' says: 'Me dear boy, what special branch iv larnin' wud ye like to have studied f'r ye be our compitint profissors?
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