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Updated: June 20, 2025
And he believed that he'd ruther jine the Babtist church than the Presbyterian, for he didn't see how he could carry on his farm without complainin' about the weather and the crops and things in general. "If Marthy and Amos'd been divided on anything but their churches, the children might 'a' brought 'em together; but every time a child was born matters got worse.
"He seems about the same, thank you." "Ah, that's foine. Shure, if we could always be 'about the same, we'd do. True for you, darlin', 'tis as you say. If ould Mary Flynn could be always "bout the same, the clods o' the valley would never cover her bones. But there 'tis we're here to-day, and away tomorrow. Shure, though, I am not complainin'. Not I not Mary Flynn.
Indeed, in McPherson, this national foible was pushed to excess, for, however inappropriate the word, he never hesitated to drag it into his conversation if he thought it would aid in the general effect. "The captain," he continued, "has been far from salubrious this voyage. He's aye complainin' o' his bodily infirmities." "Hypochondriacal, perhaps," Tom remarked.
I know it couldn't come from me, cause I 's a poor, complainin' cretur; it comes from the Lord; and I know He's willin' to do for Mas'r." Tom spoke with fast-running tears and choking voice. St. Clare leaned his head on his shoulder, and wrung the hard, faithful, black hand. "Tom, you love me," he said. "I 's willin' to lay down my life, this blessed day, to see Mas'r a Christian."
"Well, lad," he answered, pulling at his nose, "the good Lard made me what I is. I'm not complainin' o' the taste He showed. No, no! I would not think o' doin' that. But " "He made you kind," I broke in, hotly, "an' such as good folk love." "I'm not knowin' much about that, Davy. The good Lard made me as He willed. But I'm an obligin' man.
But, there it was right there before our eyes grindin' out power to run this monster Exposition, and not complainin' or needin' the whip as the fifty thousand horses would, only jest knucklin' down stiddy to the work, groanin' considerable loud, and who blames it.
Robert's chauffeurs that he'd wished onto Ferdie a year or so back on account of Flynn's bein' married and complainin' he couldn't support his fam'ly in the city. If he could get a place in the country, where the rents wa'n't so high and his old chowder-party friends wa'n't so thick, Flynn thought he might do better.
"It was a good thing that little lass came to th' Manor. It's been th' makin' o' her an' th' savin' o' him. Standin' on his feet! An' us all thinkin' he was a poor half-witted lad with not a straight bone in him." She asked a great many questions and her blue eyes were full of deep thinking. "What do they make of it at th' Manor him being so well an' cheerful an' never complainin'?" she inquired.
Thin men think, that's what Shakespeare says, an' he's right, though I've known fat men to think, too, but anyway thin men aren't near the swimmers that fat men are. Well, I suppose it's no use complainin'. You can't help thinkin' if you have that kind of a mind ... only I wish it didn't make a coward of you!"
"Of course," he added, "if you think Tad's got a right to boss all hands and the cook, why, I ain't complainin'. Only, if I was a painter doin' a good, high-class trade, and a one-hoss barber tried to dictate to me, I shouldn't bow down and tell him to kick easy as he could. Seems to me I'd kick first. But I'M no boss; I mustn't influence you." Lemuel was indignant.
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