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Updated: May 17, 2025
"That 'dosh' was about the most blasphemous thing I ever listened to. In a short space of time that child managed to cram in more new ideas, words, and acts than any one I've ever met before. I shouldn't wonder if she proves a character." The day of warmth and song and dance changed to a cool evening. There was a glowing sunset which faded into a clear, starry night.
"It means," she breathed, advancing upon her mother's retreating form, "it means skib, skib, skibble de de dosh!" At this she had her mother by the shoulders and was seeking to kiss the affrighted and appalled face. Theodora escaped her, and realized that a changeling had indeed entered her home. An unknown element was here.
Where did you learn it?" At this Priscilla doubled over with laughter but managed to say: "Why, it means just doshed! Haven't you ever wanted to be doshed, mother, when you were young, and before father took the dosh out of you?" Theodora was again overcome by former fears, and to confirm her terror Priscilla sprang toward her with outstretched, gripping fingers and wide, eager eyes.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the dance ceased, a flushed face confronted the reflection in the glass, and a low curtsey followed, while a reverent voice repeated as if in prayer: "Skib, skib, skibble de de dosh!" The words came of their own volition; they were part and kin to the mood that held and swayed her.
"I'm safe at home, and pa and ma are coming," and I find myself sending back the reply: "Yes, my darling we are coming and will soon be there." Oh, my dear sir, I am glad that I ever formed your acquaintance; may the blessing of the great God rest upon you. Please write to me, and be assured, I would be most happy to meet you again. J. M. Dosh, in Christian Expositor
Brother Dosh: I wish to relieve my heart by writing to you, and saying that that angel visit on the cars was a blessing to me, although I did not realize it in its fullness until some hours after. But blessed be the Redeemer, I know now that I am His, and He is mine. I no longer wonder why Christians are happy. Oh, my joy, my joy! The instrument of my salvation has gone to God.
They found Gottlieb with his arms cruelly pinioned sitting on a log in a state of utter dejection, and dripping with water from his ducking. "Ich zay, Antroo, ish dish vat dey galls a vree goontry, already? A blace vare troonk sheounders dosh vot ever dey hadn't ort! Dat is vree koontry. Mein knabe ish roon off ver liebin a Yangee; unt a vool he ish, doo.
"Skib, skib, skibble de de dosh!" Again the deep and sweeping courtesy and chanting of the weird words. The final "dosh!" held, in its low, fierce tone, all the significance of abject adoration. With that "dosh" had the child Priscilla wooed the favour and recognition of the god. It was a triumph of appeal.
It was a beautiful thing, that dance, grotesque, pagan, and yet divine, and through it all, panting and pulsing, sounded the strange, incomprehensible words: "Skib, skib, skibble de de dosh!" While the rite was at high tide a young fellow, lying prone under a clump of trees beyond the open space, looked on, first in amaze mingled with amusement, and then with delight and admiration.
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