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Updated: May 17, 2025
Iss, fegs, I reckon, long enough a'ready! Why, I mind the beginning of it all, I do. I mind when there wasn't a master mariner to Plymouth, that thought there was aught west of the Land's End except herrings. Why, they held them, pure wratches, that if you sailed right west away far enough, you'd surely come to the edge, and fall over cleve.
"Get to the washing, Meg," said Winsome. "Fegs!" returned Meg, "ye waur in nae great hurry yersel' doon aff the broomy knowe! What's a' the steer sae sudden like?" Winsome disdained an answer, but stood to her own tub, where some of the lighter articles pillow-slips, and fair sheets of "seventeen-hundred" linen were waiting her daintier hand.
In this way Mr Fegs got a foretaste of what had been concerted for his advantage; and Mr Peevie, in the mean time, through his helpmate, had, in like manner, not been idle; the effect of all which was, that next day, every where in the town, people spoke of Mr Hodden and Mr Fegs as being ordained to be the new councillors, in the stead of the two who had, as it was said, resigned in so unaccountable a manner, so that no candidates offered, and the election was concluded in the most candid and agreeable spirit possible; after which I had neither trouble nor adversary, but went on, in my own prudent way, with the works in hand the completion of the new bridge, the reparation of the tolbooth steeple, and the bigging of the new schools on the piece of ground adjoining to my own at the Westergate; and in the doing of the latter job I had an opportunity of manifesting my public spirit; for when the scheme, as I have related, was some years before given up, on account of Mr Plan's castles in the air for educating tawny children from the East and West Indies, I inclosed my own ground, and built the house thereon now occupied by Collector Gather's widow, and the town, per consequence, was not called on for one penny of the cost, but saved so much of a wall as the length of mine extended a part not less than a full third part of the whole.
Carried beyond himself perhaps after all, he was a lonely hermit he actually hopped from his rock, unalarmed, towards the firelight, when when the concert was suddenly interrupted by a woodland gorgon! By Andrew who, rearing his six feet two of gaunt, hurlothrumbo length from a fern-bed, hooking stick in hand, suddenly lifted from the embers a boiling kettle. "Fegs!
'fegs you've a soul, man! a soul fit for the forty- second! augh! A soul above the inches of five feet two!" There was something bitter and sneering in the Traveller's aspect as he now, regarding Dealtry, repeated "Vagrant humph! And pray what is a vagrant?" "What is a vagrant?" echoed Peter, a little puzzled. "Yes! answer me that." "Why, a vagrant is a man what wanders, and what has no money."
Graul Skellet loves not wenches who have lords for their feres, and yet who shrink from Graul and her sisters as the sound from the leper." "Fegs," answered the friar, impatiently, "I know naught against the daughter, a pretty lass, but too high for my kisses. And as for the father, I want not the man's life, that is, not very specially, but his model, his mechanical.
"You're a chauffeur," he pleaded; "you'll drive fast?" "Aye, fegs! Fast as God and gasoline will let me!" answered Andrew devoutly, with an anxious glance at the two girls. As his tall, spare figure scrambled on down the trail, the sufferer raised his eyes to Pemrose.
Goodness, Father, how a rid'th! he's over wall already! Ron, Jack! ron then! A'll get to the river! No, a wain't! Goodness, Father! There's Mr. Cary cotched mun! A's down, a's down!" "Is he dead?" asked Rose, shuddering. "Iss, fegs, dead as nits! and Mr. Cary off his horse, standing overthwart mun! No, a bain't! A's up now. Suspose he was hit wi' the flat. Whatever is Mr. Cary tu?
It's like to blaw a bonnetfu', and she rows awfu' in ony win'. I dinna think she cud capsize, but for wamlin' she's waur nor a bairn with the grips. In absolute helplessness, the boys had let him talk on: there was nothing more to be done; and Alan was in a talkative mood. 'Fegs! gin 't come on to blaw, he resumed, 'I wadna wonner gin they got the skipper to set them ashore at Stanehive.
The old man's eyes lighted at once, and he stopped mumbling his sugar. "Seed mun? Iss, I reckon. I was with Captain Will when he went to meet the Frenchman there to Calais at the Field, the Field " "The Field of the Cloth of Gold, gramfer," suggested the dame. "That's it. Seed mun? Iss, fegs. Oh, he was a king! Oh, to hear mun swear if he was merry, oh, 'tas royal! Seed mun? Iss, fegs!
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