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Updated: April 30, 2025
"'Sieur Frowenfel', Agricola writ'n' to Sylvestre to stop dat dool?" "Yes." "You goin' take dat lett' to Sylvestre?" "Yes." "'Sieur Frowenfel', dat de wrong g-way. You got to take it to 'Polyte Brahmin-Mandarin, an' 'e got to take it to Valentine Grandissime, an' 'e got to take it to Sylvestre. You see, you got to know de manner to make. Once 'pon a time I had a diffycultie wid "
I wisht Clay had popped a hole in Daviess, jest like Burr did in Hamilton. Why didn't they fight? They say Daviess sent a challenge. Wonder why that dool 'tween Jo and Harry never come off?" Hadley shrugged his shoulders. "That gits me," continued Jim. "Reckon it were a case of one askeert and an' t'other da'sn't, eh, Hen?" "Skeert nothin'!" mumbled the backwoodsman. "Clay's a dead shot."
Merrily swim we, the moon shines bright, Downward we drift through shadow and light, Under yon rock the eddies sleep, Calm and silent, dark and deep. The Kelpy has risen from the fathomless pool. He has lighted his candle of death and of dool. Look, Father, look, and you'll laugh to see How he gapes and glares with his eyes on thee. Good luck to your fishing, whom watch ye to-night?
When news reached the Hams that Roland and his beloved Aster were wedded, Lydia, who was by this time likewise a wife, said: 'I don't envy that 'ere one her bargain. You would never now, would you, dear, ask anybody out to fight a dool? Lydia, at least, told the truth. Aster lived very happily with Roland, and she still retains the beauty for which, in those olden days, she was so noted.
Wae worth ye, Robin Telfer: ye think yersel' hardly used. Say, have your brithers softer beds than yours? Is your ain father served with larger potatoes or creamier buttermilk? Whose mither sae kind as yours, ungrateful chiel? Gae to Elf-land, Wild Robin; and dool and wae follow ye! dool and wae follow ye!"
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