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Updated: May 27, 2025
On th' other side from Hell's wide gaping jaws, A train of dire inhabitants arose: Dreadful errings, fierce Bellona there, Fraud, and Megera arm'd with brands of fire, And th' gastly image of pale death appear: Disorder'd Rage from all her fetters freed, Proudly 'midst these lifts her distracted head, And her hackt face with bloody helmet hid.
Everyone felt it to be singularly inappropriate, and Miss Watson said it gave her quite a turn to hear the relish with which he knolled out: "Wit with his wantonness Tasteth death's bitterness: Hell's executioner Hath no ears for to hear What vain art can reply! I am sick, I must die God have mercy on us." She regarded him with disapproving eyes as a thoroughly uncomfortable character.
What in hell's brought you around now? What they done your way?" His manner roused the foreman to a soreness he wasn't slow in showing. "Jest thirty Shorthorn yearlings," he said without any attempt to soften the blow. "Jest thirty prize stock." The announcement had an unlooked-for effect. Where Nan expected another furious display Bud remained silent.
Hell's fire if I don't cut your gullet open." "What an evening we are having, to be sure," said my father, turning to the doorway. Mr. Aiken was pushing a man before him into the room, and holding a dirk at his throat. "Ives!" shrieked Mademoiselle. "She is right," said my father. "It is Ives de Blanzy. I had forgotten you had sent him to the house." The man Mr.
"No; nuthin' much just pow-wowin'. Yer want me?" "Search that scoundrel for weapons. Don't ask questions; do what I say." He made short work of it, using no gentle methods. "Wal' the gent wasn't exactly harmless," he reported, grinning cheerfully, "considerin' this yere knife an cannon. Now, maybe ye'll tell me whut the hell's up?"
Raise hell's delight and then haul down the curtain quick before the audience has had time to pull itself together. See? We'd treat the author very handsome if we could get hold of a good piece with a big emotional part for the wife ... and although I'm her husband ... in the sight of God, anyway ... I will say this for her, Mac, there's not another woman on the stage ... Ellen Terry, Mrs.
I have not heard from the Gap, and hardly from Hell's Kitchen, in five years. The last news from the Kitchen was when the thin wedge of a column of negroes, in their up-town migration, tried to squeeze in, and provoked a race war; but that in fairness should not be laid up against it.
Like lutes of angels, touched so near Hell's confines, that the damned can hear. Time: Five o'clock in the afternoon. Five o'clock, that is to say, by the railway time. There is another time in Barcelona the town time, to wit which differs from the hour of the iron road by thirty minutes or thereabouts. But then the town time is Spanish, that is to say that no one takes any notice of it.
It was plain to me that the pair of them, spineless and spunkless, were afraid of the men they were supposed to boss. And the men! Dore could never have conjured a more delectable hell's broth. For the first time I saw them all, and I could not blame the two bosuns for being afraid of them. They did not walk. They slouched and shambled, some even tottered, as from weakness or drink.
John Throckmorton hecame a Confederate officer, and, being able to keep her out of the lines, he had a rest of four years. But, when after the war he returned to Louisville, the quarry began again. He was wont to call her "Old Hell's Delight." Finally, one night, as he was passing the market, she rushed out and rained upon him blow after blow with a frozen rabbit.
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