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Updated: June 20, 2025
'Suppose ye step down into the cabin and have a leetle of somethin' to take, seem' what a tarnal ugly fog's comin' up. Tom Blowers 'll get all the things clear, so ye can take a look round, and be satisfied how we ain't been takin' advantage of the law, while you and me wets t'other eye with a little what won't taste bad, continues Pluck, doing the polite all up.
It was indeed a shabby little tree, only redeemed from ugliness by a white cross poised on the green summit; this cross glittered and shone in the firelight, it was cut from solid ice. 'Perhaps I can help, you, said old Fog's voice behind.
"Don't want sunshine," he said. "Fog's much better." "What for?" asked Colin in surprise. "Why should any one want fog rather than sunshine?" "Fur seals do," was the emphatic response. "No seals on any other groups of islands in the North Pacific. Just here and Commander Islands. Why?" "Because they are foggier than others?" hazarded Colin at a guess. "Exactly.
Lancaster, her handsome face haggard, lay back in her chair and for a space of minutes remained perfectly motionless. At last her lips moved "Whatever happens, I shall have twenty-five thousand pounds." As Bullard replaced the receiver, Flitch came slouching in. "Couldn't help bein' a bit late, mister," he remarked. "Fog's awful to-night. Got lost more'n once."
How many drums have they got, anyway?" "Listen! If you listen right hard you can hear them shouting orders! Hush up, you infantry, down there! We want to hear." "They're moving guns, too! Wish there'd come a little sympathizing earthquake and help them 'specially those siege guns on the heights over there!" "No, no! I want to fight them. Look! it's lifting a little! the fog's lifting a little!
The voice shook a little, and my way opened before me with disgraceful ease. "Yesh. Dining private yacht. Eshmesheralda. I belong to Torquay Yacht Club. Are you member Torquay Yacht Club?" "You'd better go to bed, Sir. Good-night." We slid into the rapidly thinning fog. "Dig out, Alf. Put your nix mangiare back into it. The fog's peelin' off like a petticoat. Where's Two Six Seven?"
Klein was generally known as the general's cousin, which doubtless saved her and her family from molestation, too common on the part of our men. One day, as I was riding the line near a farm known as Parson Fog's, I heard that the family of a Mr. Wilkinson, of New Orleans, was "refugeeing" at a house near by.
Klein was generally known as the general's cousin, which doubtless saved her and her family from molestation, too common on the part of our men. One day, as I was riding the line near a farm known as Parson Fog's, I heard that the family of a Mr. Wilkinson, of New Orleans, was "refugeeing" at a house near by.
Every moment now I expected to see him ring down to the engine room for reduced speed, but we kept on going, doggedly, blindly, until at last we were pitching over long, smooth swells that were covered by a blanket of murk. "We'll have to slow down, Sammy!" he suddenly cried, impatiently, to the old man. "That fog's too much for us, and getting worse every minute."
But, thanks to the fog's clearing, the pilot recognised the Scottish coast, and, steering his four boats with great skill through all the dangers, on the 20th August he put in at Leith, where no preparation had been made for the queen's reception. Nevertheless, scarcely had she arrived there than the chief persons of the town met together and came to felicitate her.
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