Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 20, 2025
Takes a deal o' study, Ziffa, to make him out. Your father always say that. But Rosco's fuss-rate at 'splainin' of 'em. Fuss-rate so your father say. Him was born for a mis'nary." At that moment a cry was heard in the distance. They had been ascending a winding path leading to the field to which they were bound.
"I say, Fred Thorley, ain't it bang up?" remarked a sturdy little man, through a huge slice of cake, with which he had just filled his mouth. "Fuss-rate!" responded Fred, as he finished a cup of coffee at a draught and called for more. "Didn't I tell you, Sam, that you'd like it better than the native grog-shops?" "If they'd on'y got bitter beer!" sighed Sam.
So he put on an expression which his cheery face had not known since that period of infancy when his frequent demands for sugar were not gratified. Wheels worked within wheels, however, for he felt so disgusted with the part he had to play that he got into the sulks naturally! "Fuss-rate!" whispered Peter, "you's a'most as good as myself."
Bobbsey told her, "and just listen to what Aunt Sarah says about you," and once more the blue letter came out, while Mrs. Bobbsey read: "'And be sure to bring dear old Dinah! We have plenty of room, and she will so enjoy seeing the farming." "Farming! Ha! ha! Dat I do like. Used to farm all time home in Virginie!" the maid declared. "And I likes it fuss-rate!
By the way, Fred, p'r'aps they may be able to give you some noos here, if you ax 'em, about your friend Jack Molloy. He was a Blue Light, wasn't he?" "Not w'en I know'd 'im, but he was a fuss-rate seaman an' a good friend, though he was fond of his glass, like yourself, Sam."
Here is a t'ing, however, will save you shoulders. Now, you makes fuss-rate runner." He took the little green tippet off his own shoulders and fastened it on those of his successor. "Come now," he added, "let us see how you can run."
"I think, Mafuta," said Tom gravely, "that I'm pretty nearly used up. You'll have to leave me, I fear, and make the best of your way out of this wretched country alone." "Dis a fuss-rate kontry," said the Caffre quietly. "Ah, true, Mafuta, I forgot for a moment that it is your native land. However, I am bound to admit that it is a first-rate country for sport also for killing Englishmen.
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