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Updated: May 22, 2025
An' reight, too, gentlemen forty feet it is down to that road. An' a mortal hard road, an' all, paved wi' granite stone all t' way to t' stable-yard." "You're sure it was Friday noon?" repeated Pratt. "As sure as that I see you," answered the woodman. "An' Mrs. Mallathorpe she said she'd hev it seen to. Dear-a-me! it should ha' been closed!"
So quenched the spirit and came home ashamed of myself." Then she added, "Dear-a-me how overfull I am, and how I should like to be nestled into some corner away from every chick and child with you once more."
"Dear-a-me," she sighs, laying the letter upon the table, kicking the cat as she resumes her rocking, and with her right hand restoring her Milton to its accustomed place on the table. "Rebecca," she says, "will get a pillow and place it nicely at my back." Rebecca, the old slave, brings the pillow.
Dear-a-me, Doctor, what a business this will be! I am sure being Laird of Lunda isn't all sugar and spice." "It has happened most unfortunately at this time, just when those young people were bringing the old man round in such a nice way. Well, well, Fred! we must believe there is some good purpose in even such a 'kettle of fish' as this."
"How should I know?" answered her husband gruffly. "Well-a-well!" Poor thing! we must not ask aught about her, but that she needs help. I wish I'd my salts at home, but I lent 'em to Mrs. Burton, last Sunday in church, for she could not keep awake through the sermon. Dear-a-me, how white she is!" "Here! you hold her up a bit," said her husband.
The good wife, after handling my hands, which were a little whiter and cleaner than what are generally seen in The Desert, for to have hands with a layer of dirt upon them of several months' collecting, is an ordinary circumstance, exclaimed, "Dear-a-me, dear-a-me, how wonderful, and this Christian doesn't know God!" Her husband shook his head negatively.
"Dear-a-me," she sighs, laying the letter upon the table, kicking the cat as she resumes her rocking, and with her right hand restoring her Milton to its accustomed place on the table. "Rebecca," she says, "will get a pillow and place it nicely at my back." Rebecca, the old slave, brings the pillow.
"An excellent society excellent, I assure you, Madame " "Truly, Mr. Hadger," interrupted Mrs. Swiggs, "your labors on behalf of this Tract Society will be rewarded in heaven " "Dear-a-me," Mr. Hadger returns, ere Mrs. Swiggs can finish her sentence, "don't mention such a thing. I assure you it is a labor of love." "Their tracts are so carefully got up. "Excuse the interruption," Mr.
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