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Updated: June 22, 2025
When he raised it he shivered and put his hands on the shoulders of his two companions. 'Ye've walked the Divil out av me, bhoys, said he. Ortheris shot out the red-hot dottel of his pipe on the back of the hairy fist. 'They say 'Ell's 'otter than that, said he, as Mulvaney swore aloud. 'You be warned so.
I shan't arst your leave nor nobody else's! Wot the 'ell's it got do with you who I votes for? 'It has a great deal to do with me. If you vote for Protection you will be helping to bring it about, and if you succeed, and if Protection is the evil that some people say is is, I shall be one of those who will suffer.
"What in 'ell's the matter?" Ned groaned. "Don't worry, Sonny," an old corporal called, "you'll get there in time to see more than you want." The regiment reached the battle lines at one o'clock. The morning hours had been spent in driving in the skirmishers and feeling the enemy's positions. Lee had given orders for a general charge on a signal yell from Armistead's brigade.
"The Better 'Ole" became almost an institution; we could speak with authority on "'oles." And "When the 'ell's it goin' to be strawberry?" was the unfailing jest at meal-times, as we scraped the layer of flies from the top of the inevitable Tickler. No doubt these things will strike you as trivial. Quite so.
"What in 'ell's 'e want?" "Nothing, if you pay attention to him. All he hankers for is humoring. He wants to talk." "Uh! What in 'ell's a matter with him?" "Nothing, but he'll put a crimp in your machinery unless you stay and chin with him." "I give him dry steam. He'll run like the devil." "Don't you believe it. He's wise. Better humor him." "Shucks! I shoot him. I shot lots o' men."
'Bloody rot, I call it, chimed in the man on the pail. 'Wot the 'ell's the use of the likes of us troublin' our 'eads about politics? 'Oh, I don't see that. replied Harlow.
Everyone else in th' fo'c's'le sits up, wide awake, an' starin' at th' sufferin' wretches on th' floor. "'Wot th' 'ell's up? asks th' Britisher; but no one knew, an' th' nex' second there was another explosion, an' he suddenly gave a scream that lifted th' hair on my scalp, an' leaps outer his bunk as if he'd been suddenly prodded in a tender spot wi' a red hot poker.
And the knight smiteth him so hard on his shield that he maketh an ell's length pass beyond, for right wroth was he that he was wounded. The dwarf crieth to him, "Away, then! The knight endureth against you that have slain so many of them!" The Knight of the Galley waxeth wood wrath.
Thorkell answered, "Keep your timber yourself if you think you have given me too much, or your hand itches to take it back, but not an ell's length shall I cut off it. But it is not true that I begrudge you the timber, if only it be fated to you to build a church therewith; for it will never be large enough for all your pride to find room to lie inside it.
She cared, in a way. Not as I do. That was one hitch. The other was Oh 'Ell's antipathy to soldiers, as husbands for her precious family. She Rose knew there would be ructions; a downright tussle, in fact. Well she'll go almost any length to avoid ructions; specially with her mother. I don't blame her. The woman's a caution.
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