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Updated: June 13, 2025
Therefore, one day while out on a distant pasture, rounding up a small bunch of yearlings, he was in no way surprised to see the farmer-like figure of the sheriff appear over the brow of a rising ground, and canter his raw-boned horse down toward him. And that meeting was in the nature of an eye-opener to Tresler.
There was a sort of farmer-like geniality in the air. One spoke freely to strangers. Every man with a hoe was a friend. Men chewed straws in their offices, and kept looking out of windows to pretend to themselves that they were afraid it might blow up rain. "Got your tomatoes in?" one man would ask another as they went up in the elevator.
Creighton accepted the offer very readily. "I have not been in any carriage so rustic and farmer-like these twenty years," she said. "I shall be happy to drive you, if you can be satisfied with a sober old whip like myself, and a sober old pony like Timo." "It is settled then; you ride I suppose, Miss Wyllys." Elinor assented; Mary Van Alstyne was also to go on horseback. Mr.
Farmer-like as were his dress and air, they shewed him nevertheless a well-built, fine-looking man, with the independent bearing of one who has never recognised any but mental or moral superiority. His face might have been called handsome; there was at least manliness in every line of it; and his excellent dark eye shewed an equal mingling of kindness and acute common sense. Let Mr.
In cord breeches and leather gaiters, his straw hat on the back of his head, he looked thoroughly farmer-like, and he seemed to have assumed the jovial independent manner as well as the clothes appropriate to the man who has no other master but the winds and the weather. "So long, Mr. Allen. Put in a good word for me at the Kennels." "I will so, Mr. Dale." "Good-by, Mr. Silcox.
"Here, men, don't crowd this way on the honorable committee of Congress!" cried one and another, as a stout, burly, red-faced, honest, genial-looking man, whose uniform of a general officer could not disguise his plain farmer-like appearance, attended by two or three staff-officers and followed by several white-wigged gentlemen of great dignity, the rich attire and the evident respect in which they were held proclaiming them the committee of Congress, slowly forced their way through the crowd.
They went across the street to the Commercial House, which they found full of men in groups, talking very earnestly, but quietly. Most of them were farmer-like looking figures, big and brown, and dressed in worn, faded clothing, but here and there a young man stood, wearing a broad white hat, and with a gay handkerchief knotted loosely about his neck.
In this unreal phantasmagoria it was a relief to me to see walking in the area of the private garden two men: the one a stately person with a kingly air, a handsome face, his head covered with a huge wig that fell upon his shoulders; the other a farmer-like man, stout and ungracious, the counterpart of the pictures of the intendant Colbert.
Apparently she was not in the best of tempers this morning. A drover who attempted to jest with her was unmercifully snubbed, and so also was a master butcher from Marylebone, who as a rule was received with favour. But the lady was not in an ill temper with everybody certainly not with the stolid farmer-like man who was plodding his way through a rumpsteak washed down by small beer.
Those faces were all concentrated on a certain figure, a farmer-like, sunburned man who stood, roughly clothed, with his hands behind him, speaking to no one, looking nowhere in particular; waiting, so far as I could see, for nothing, with broad shoulders and heavy muscles, and the head of a hero above.
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