United States or Ireland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Shure an' ye'd have been after objectin' if ye'd heard thim turrible blows that kilt her the poor, sufferin', swate crayter! I hope he gits all that's comin' to him bad cess to him for a blood-thirsty divil!" The lawyer ignominiously abandoned the attack.
The woman stopped. "What's yer wull, Maister Alec?" "Jist stan' there an' pu' this lassie oot. We're a' keepit in thegither, and nearhan' hungert." "The Lord preserve 's! I'll gang for the key." "Na, na; we wad hae to pay for that. Tak her oot that's a' we want." "He's a coorse crayter that maister o' yours. I wad gang to see him hangt."
The poor crayter hasn't the use of all her faculties. I have taken no end o' pains with her, but I can't get her to count twenty on her finger ends wid a whole life's tachein'. Fortune has turned her dark side to me this long time, now; and, bedad, iv it wasn't for contrivin', an' workin' hard to boot, I wouldn't be able to keep above the flood.
I was vexed at the intrusion; but prompted by some impulse of curiosity, I lay still and listened. Barney was speaking as they approached. "In trath, Misther Gowdey, an' it's meself 'ud go far this blissed night for a dhrap o' the crayter. I noticed the little kig afore; but divil resave me av I thought it was anythin' barrin' cowld water.
"Fwhat is it? Let me see. That! Be me sowl! that's a quare-looking crayter anyhow." "Sac-r-r-re! it is von Texan! von fr-r-og! Dat is de feesh we smell stink. Owah ah ah!" "Oh! holy mother! if here isn't another in moine! By jabers! it's a scorpion lizard! Hoach wach wach!" "Ow ah ah ack ack! Mon Dieu! Oach ach ! Sac-r! O ach ach o oa a ach!" "Tare-an-ages!
Its plumage was highly colored and very beautiful. "What do you call that bird, Louis?" asked Morris. "Chambers calls it simply the argus, but the more common name is the argus-pheasant," replied Louis. "Faix, he's a magnificent crayter; and what a long tail our cat has got," added Felix, as he spread the bird out on the gunwale.
He was drawn away by some bad lads, an' he got three months in the New Bailey; that's God's truth. . . . Ah, what'll I do wid him," said she, bursting into tears afresh; "what'll I do wid him? sure, he is my own!" We did not stop long to intrude upon such trouble as this. She called out as we came away to tell us that the poor crayter next door was quite helpless.
Faith, it's a pity to see the way she is, neither husband nor son, nor chick nor child, nor bit nor sup, barrin' what folk that has nothin' can give to her, the crayter." " Oh, indeed, then, sir," said another, "I'll lave it to God; but that woman is starvin'. She is little more nor skin an' bone, and that's goin' less.
"Ah, thin," said his mother, "that villain's the boy for tuckin' up soup! The Lord be about him, an' save him alive to me, the crayter ! . . . An' there's little curly there, the rogue! Sure he'll take as much soup as any wan o' them. Maybe he wouldn't laugh to see a big bowl forninst him this day." "It's very well they have such good spirits," said the visitor.
Word Of The Day