Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 24, 2025
The gentleman really pleases me a great deal, with his little white goatee and his wee voice that seems to come from the other world!... I tell you I'm going to see him and say, 'Señor Rabbi, Luna and I adore each other and wish to many; not like the Jews, by contract and with the right to change their minds, but for all our life, for centuries and centuries.
He was a singular object; tall, grim, half-comical, with a leer of low familiarity in his eves, but his waxed mustache of military proportions, his patch of goatee just above the chin, his elaborately oiled hair and flaming necktie, set off his faded face with an odd gear of finery and impressiveness.
"You ruin her!" The bluff young Captain put down his glass to laugh. "Ruin her!" he exclaimed. "Her pa don't ruin her I eh, Ephum? Her pa don't ruin her!" "Lawsy, Marse Lige, I reckon he's wuss'n any." "Ephum," said the Colonel, pulling his goatee thoughtfully, "you're a damned impertinent nigger. I vow I'll sell you South one of these days. Have you taken that letter to Mr. Renault?"
The Colonel, stroking his goatee, regarded him curiously. "Silas," he said slowly, "if you won't drink it for me, perhaps you will drink it for Abraham Lincoln." The two who watched that scene have never forgotten it. Outside, in the great cool store, the rattle of the trucks was heard, and Mr. Hopper giving commands. Within was silence.
He was a tall, heavy man, with a full, coarse, and somewhat dull face, and lazy, sluggish gray eyes. His long black hair was carefully oiled, and turned under at the ends, as was the custom with the rural beaux some years ago. His face was clean shaved, except a large, sandy goatee. He wore a high silk hat, a black broadcloth coat, Kentucky jeans pantaloons, neatly fitting boots, and no vest.
The gray-haired man with the goatee was an admiral. The gentle-spoken, shy man with the silver hair was a famous Indian fighter of the old frontier days. The man who spoke informedly of the Children's Theatre was one of the best-known of American men of letters. The lady who was anxious to interrogate him about it was one whose fame as an uplifter of humanity has travelled 'round the globe.
"Come on, boys!" yelled the goatee man, bloody and savage with Cameron's blow. "Don't let the blank blank blank rattle you like a lot of blank blank chickens. Come on!" At once rose a roar from eight hundred throats like nothing human in its sound, and the crowd began to press close upon the Police. But the revolvers had an ugly appearance to those in front looking into their little black throats.
A tall white man, dressed as a cowboy, with long dangling yellow hair and a thin mustache and goatee, and with rifle slung over his shoulder, had appeared on the further side of the plateau, and was approaching the couple at a deliberate pace. "Wal, I'm hanged!" exclaimed Hazletine; "if there isn't Bill Tozer! He's the last man I expected to meet in these parts."
Close to the counter stood goatee Bill, loudly orating, and violently urging the breaking in of the guard room and the release of the prisoner. "In my country," he yelled, "we'd have that feller out in about six minutes in spite of all the blank blank Police in this blank country. THEY ain't no good. They're scairt to death."
In his hard, clear, gray animal eyes was that swift, incisive, restless, searching glance which sometimes troubles us in the presence of animals. It was hard to believe that he was all of sixty, as I had been told. He looked the very well-preserved man of fifty or less. The short trimmed mustache and goatee which he wore were gray and added to his grand air.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking