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Updated: June 23, 2025
"You could study a life on women," Rutherford Berry pronounced, "and never come to any satisfaction. It seems to me the better they be the more sharp-like they get. There's your sister, Gord the way she does about the house, and with all the children to tend, is a caution to Dunkards. She does all you could ask and again. But it just seems she can't be pleasant with it.
Well, when I gets out, the boy's dead. An' they never even tells me, till I goes back! An' I can't even get his things. Because why? Mrs. McCane's gone, Gord knows where, an' Mr. Micolo says I still owe two-seventy-five. I want to get down there to Scottsville, to my sister's; but curse me if I'll go till I pay that devil an' get them clothes!"
'One! said I. 'Do we get our money? "'Drop that machine! says he, rushin' up to me. "'I'm a-goin' to, says I, 'good and hard. Think again, while I count. Do we get our money? "'You get pinched! says he. "'Two, says I, and I swings the box up by the legs. "'Hole on! yells the boss. 'Pay the mutt, Jimmy, and, for Gord sake, get that machine before he ruins the best reel we made yet!
The Chinee and the strange white man moved in a kind of flicker, unreal as the figures in a cinematograph. Then all was blank for a while. When he came to, he was lying by the well with a bag under his head, and the strange white man was trying to pour some spirits down his throat. "I'm all right thanks!" gasped Hugh. "By Gord, Mister, it's lucky I happened to come along," said the stranger.
Well, seh, I wuz on de lookout for 'im when he come back, an', fo' Gord, ef he face didn' shine like a angel's! I say to myse'f, 'Um'm! ef de glory o' Gord ain' done shine on 'im! An' what yo' 'spose 'twuz?
He took everything from the frame, and blank dismay seized him, when the desired object was nowhere visible. "Marse Alfred, I swear I tacked that hank'cher in the back of this here portrait, between the pasteboard and the brown paper, only yestiddy; and 'fore Gord! I haint seen it since."
Fur Gord sake, des look at dem cows! All squez up together 'g'ins' dem bars in dat sof' mud des like I knowed dey gwine be an' me late at my milkin'! You Lady! Teck yo' proud neck down f'om off dat heifer's head! Back, I tell yer! Don't tell me, Spot! Yas, I know she impose on you yas she do. Reachin' her monst'ous mouf clair over yo' po' little muley head. Move back, I say, Lady!
The other man was excitable and had an enormous newspaper in his hand, and he answered in a high voice, "'Cause we're too sensible, that's why! 'Cause we know what we're about, we do." The other man said, "Ho! Do we?" The second man answered, "Yes: we do. What made England?" "Gord," said the first man. This brought the second man up all standing and nearly carried away his fore-bob-stay.
Brown kept shouting: "Ship-shape, gents, and reg'lar; that's the word. Place your vote and then you drinks.... Gord bless yer merry hearts." Thus he harangued them into order and coaxed many a Russian, Spanish, English and American coin across his bar. Suddenly he looked into the eyes of Aleck McTurpin. "Give me a brandy sling," the gambler ordered.
"All those damned stick-in-the-mud-and-die-slowly tradespeople: Ruck, the butcher, Marbel, the grocer. Snape! Gord! George, HOW they'll grin!" I thought him over in the next few weeks, and I remember now in great detail the last talk we had together before he handed over the shop and me to his successor.
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