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"Nothing on airth," she replied; "her complaint's upon the spirits, an' we didn't think that physic stuff would be of any use to her." "Well, perhaps I will find a cure for her. Listen to me, darling. Your sweetheart's name and fame are cleared, and Bryan M'Mahon is what he ever was an honest an' upright young man."

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it for you, Seth," he pleaded. "I'm always willin' to do your work. You're the one that's been complainin'." "Ugh! Well, I'm likely to complain some more, but the complaint's one thing, and the need's another. I'm like Joel Knowles he said when he couldn't get whisky he worried along best he could with bay rum.

"I fancy," said Mott, addressing the driver, "that the beauties of this country have added much to your longevity?" "My which?" demanded the farmer sharply. "Your longevity." "I never had no such complaint's that. I've had the rheumatiz, but that's all that ever bothered me any." "You are to be congratulated," murmured Mott. "Guess that's so.

Josh rose and went to the fire to relight his brier-wood pipe, which had gone out during the recital. "And is the little girl still very ill?" asked Father Friday, with gentle concern. "Yes; an' the trouble is, she gets wus an' wus," was the reply. "The complaint's taken a new turn lately. She's been in a ragin' fever an' kind of flighty most of the time.

Complaint's older 'n you or me.... Dum near as old as Deacon Pettybone. Uh-huh!... She's got a attack of life, Nahum, and the only cure for it ever discovered is to let her live.... Sairy's woke up out of childhood, Nahum. She's jest openin' her eyes. Perty soon she'll be stirrin' around brisk.... When you goin' to drive her in, Nahum? To-morrer?" "You you advise letting her do this thing?"