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Updated: June 5, 2025
T' sky had bin owercussen wi' hen-scrattins an' filly-tails, but when they gat to t' dub t' wind had skifted 'em, an' t' mooin were shinin' ower Pendle Hill way an' leetin' up t' trees and makkin' t' watter glisten like silver. Lile Doed were that fain he started clappin' his hands an' well-nigh forgat all about Melsh Dick an' t' squirrel.
She's that onselfish like, 'twould have done you proud to see her clappin' her hands an' smilin', though the tears yet in her eyes, 'cause she an' Bonny must part.
Forward, march! An' we went into that hell, an' rolled them cars out just as if we was marchin' down Broadway, wid flags, an' music, an' women clappin' hands." "But weren't you dreadfully burnt?" "Oh, miss, yez should have seen us! We was blacker thin the divil himsilf.
I nuber seed 'im but I hyeard he wuz dar, do, an' I knows he wuz dar, caze I sho'ly hyeard 'em clappin' uv dey han's; an', 'cordin' ter de way I 'members bout'n it, dis is his birfday, wat de folks keeps plum till yet caze dey ain't no men nowerdays like Marse Fofer July. He wuz er gre't man, an' he had sense, too; an' den, 'sides dat, he wuz some er de fus' famblys in dem days.
But but there are so many of them." "What about starting with your own block?" suggests Vee. "Perhaps with only one side of the street at first. Couldn't you find out how many were interested in one particular thing music, or dancing, or bridge and get them together?" "Oh, I see!" says Mrs. Bill, clappin' her hands, enthusiastic. "Make a social survey. Why, of course.
To hae her sittin' here, as she used to sit, her wee heid wi' its soft hair against my knee, an' my haun clappin' it, an' her bonnie een lookin' up at me, as if I was something she aye looket up to, as bein' better than ony living being she ever kenned, wad be mair pleasure for me this minute than if I got a' the money in the world.
It's a flossy garden scene, all right, with winding paths, and flowerbeds, and cute little summer houses, and all sorts of bushes in bloom. Now and then I could hear music driftin' out, and when a piece was through the hand clappin' would commence, like a shower on a tin roof.
He just saw him as a boy, and didn't know who he was. Just then they were singin' "Knockin', Knockin', Who is There?" And it was dreadful solemn, some were moaning, others crying out, some were clappin' their hands, and lots were being talked to to bring 'em over. "Are you saved, my little friend?" Mitch says, "Maybe, I don't know." "Maybe," says he.
"I ought to be laughin' an' clappin' my hands. I reckon I'm tired. Streets are so hard an' straight, an' there's such a terrible number of houses." "How did you come, Christianna, and when, and why?" "It was this a-way," began Christianna, with the long mountain day before her. "It air so lonesome on Thunder Run, with Pap gone, an' Dave gone, an' Billy gone, an' an' Billy gone.
I used to love to read pirate books. I wanted to go to sea." "So you ran away and became a sailor," adds Mrs. Mumford, clappin' her hands enthusiastic. "I planned to lots of times," says Rupert, "but father made me go through the academy. Then afterwards I had to teach school in a rough district. Once some big boys tried to throw me into a snowdrift. We had a terrible fight."
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