United States or Czechia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


Ripley returning now, she said: "Waal, now, I've fixed things up the best I could. I've baked bread enough to last a week, an' Mis' Doudney has promised to bake for yeh." "I don't like her bakin'."

"None o' your business," said Uncle Ethan, as he turned and made off, while Doudney screamed with merriment. On his way home Uncle Ethan grew ashamed of his burden. Doudney had canvassed the whole neighborhood, and he practically gave up the struggle. Everybody he met seemed determined to find out what he had been doing, and at last he began lying about it.

"Say, what d' you think o' paytent med" "Some of 'em are boss. But y' want 'o know what y're gitt'n'." "What d' ye think o' Dodd's" "Best in the market." Uncle Ethan straightened up and his face lighted. Doudney went on: "Yes, sir; best bitter that ever went into a bottle. I know, I've tried it. I don't go much on patent medicines, but when I get a good" "Don't want 'o buy a bottle?"

He hardly felt like whistling now. At the next house he set his pail down in the weeds beside the fence, and went in without it. Doudney came to the door in his bare feet, buttoning his suspenders over a clean boiled shirt. He was dressing to go out. "Hello, Ripley. I was just goin' down your way. Jest wait a minute an' I'll be out." When he came out fully dressed, Uncle Ethan grappled him.

Mis' Doudney says it's jest scandalous the way things is managed on them cars. I'm goin' on the old-fashioned cars, where they ain't no half-dressed men runain' around." "But you needn't be afraid of them, Mother; at your age-" "There! you needn't throw my age an' homeliness into my face, Ethan Ripley.

Some of the different forms of the Puff Poetical are amusing, especially the advertisement of Doudney Brothers' Waistcoats, and the Puff Direct in which Parr's Life-pills are glorified after the manner of a German ballad. The Laureate is a fair hit at some of Tennyson's earlier mannerisms:

Doudney turned and faced him. "Buy! No. I've got nineteen bottles I want 'o sell" Ripley glanced up at Doudney's new granary and there read "Dodd's Family Bitters." He was stricken dumb. Doudney saw it all and roared. "Wal, that's a good one! We two tryin' to sell each other bitters. Ho-ho-ho-har, whoop! wal, this is rich! How many bottles did you git?"

"Say, what d' you think o' paytent med-" "Some of 'em are boss. But y' want 'o know what y're gittin'." "What d' ye think o, Dodd's-" "Best in the market." Uncle Ethan straightened up and his face lighted. Doudney went on: "Yes, sir; best bitter that ever went into a bottle. I know, I've tried it. I don't go much on patent medicines, but when I get a good-" "Don't want 'o buy a bottle?"

He's jest as anxious to find out as we be-'" Here Mrs. Doudney paused for breath; she had walked so fast and had rested so little that her interminable flow of "ses I's" and "ses he's" ceased necessarily. She had reached, moreover, the point of most vital interest-the money.

He hardly felt like whistling now. At the next house he set his pail down in the weeds beside the fence and went in without it. Doudney came to the door in his bare feet, buttoning his suspenders over a clean boiled shirt. He was dressing to go out. "Hello, Ripley. I was just goin' down your way. Jest wait a minute, an' I'll be out." When he came out, fully dressed, Uncle Ethan grappled him.