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Updated: June 17, 2025
"What's the use in our caring about hard words after this, 'atheists, heretics, infidels, and the like? They're, after all, only the cinders picked up out of those heaps of ashes round the stumps of the old stakes where they used to burn men, women, and children for not thinking just like other folks. They 'll 'crock' your fingers, but they can't burn us.
Agathemer, more knowing than I, would not let them approach the fire until they had bathed their feet in a crock of water he kept standing ready inside the hut door and had partially dried them afterwards. He said that otherwise their feet would puff and swell and perhaps inflame. They seemed happy-hearted little beings and Secunda was bright.
"Don't," Napoleon advised. Mrs. Lively with a sudden jerk sat bolt upright, as straight as a crock. "Who asked you for your advice?" she demanded sharply. The young Lively swallowed three times distinctly, and then replied, while shaking the pepper-box over his potato, "Nobody." "Then, why can't you keep it to yourself?" "Can." "Then, why don't you do it?" "Do." "You exasperating boy!
"That's too much," I objected. "She'll know she never got a crock full from a dry vine." "She'll think the vine bled itself dry for her sake." "She isn't that silly." "Well then, how silly is she?" asked Leon, spilling out half. "About so?" "Not so bad as that. Less yet!" "Anything to please the ladies," said Leon, pouring out more. Then we sat and giggled a while.
I won't have no dull looks about to-day, girl. Isn't this enough to make a poor man merry? No more troubles, no more toil, no more 'humble sarvent, no more a ragged, plodding ploughman: but a lord, daughter Grace a great, rich, luxurious lord isn't this enough to make a man sing out hooray? Thank the crock of gold for this Oh, blessed crock!"
"Get up, Thumbietot," said he, "and open this crock!" "Why can't you let me sleep?" said the boy. "I'm too tired to do anything to-night. Wait until to-morrow!" "Open the crock!" said Wind-Rush, shaking him. "How shall a poor little child be able to open such a crock? Why, it's quite as large as I am myself." "Open it!" commanded Wind-Rush once more, "or it will be a sorry thing for you."
Nurse no heated hopes, no will-o'-the-wisp bright wishes: rather let your warmest hopes be temperately these health, work, wages: and as for wishing, mates, wish any thing you will sooner than to find a crock of gold."
This story of 'The Crock of Gold' purports to be a Dutch picture, as becometh boors, their huts, their short and simple annals; so that, after its moralities, the mass of minute detail is the only thing that gives it any value.
Is this the earliest blessing of that luck which many long for the finding of a crock of gold? We would not enlarge upon the scene; a painful one at all times, when man forgets his high prerogative, and drowns his reason in the tankard: but, in a Roger Acton's case, lately so wise, temperate, and patient, peculiarly distressing. Its chief features were these.
"Yes, it's a comfortable town. It's different from the plains in a blue norther. What did you call that mess in the crock with the handle, Longy? Oh, yes, squabs in a cash roll. They're worth the roll. That white mustang had just such a way of turning his head and shaking his mane look at her, Longy. If I thought I could sell out my ranch at a fair price, I believe I'd
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