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Updated: June 13, 2025
He may make a poet or a painter, or you may make a sojer of him, though worse men than him's good enough for that but a bad merchant, a lazy lawyer, and a miserable mathematician. He has wit and conscientiousness, so ye mustn't think of making a clergyman of him." "Binnie!" says the Colonel gravely, "you are always sneering at the cloth."
'The humbug's just the conventional mask of his profession necessary enough, I suppose, for people who are really going to live successfully in the world as we find it: the heart within him's a thousand times warmer and truer and more unspoiled than one could ever have imagined from the outer covering.
"One I mean's got a child big now must be fifteen or twenty years old girl, ain't it?" "No, it's a boy. He's one of the crew here; his name's Archie Cobden. Me and him's been brothers since we was babies. What do you know about him?" Tod had resumed his walk, but at a slower pace. "Nothin'; that's why I ask."
"Here, show this young gentleman the way ashore," said the tall man. "Take the dog first." "No, thankye," said the sailor grinning, "me and him's friends now, aren't we, shipmet? We won't begin by falling out again." He stooped down and patted Bruff, who blinked up at him, and gave his bushy tail two wags, after which he walked slowly to the tall officer and began to smell his legs.
One hair of him's worth more than a world-full of skunks of money-lenders." Daughtry dashed into the cabin, came back with a pillow and three sheets, and, using the first as a pad and knotting the last together in swift weaver's knots, he left the Ancient Mariner safe and soft and took Michael back into his own arms. "She's making water, sir," the mate called. "Six inches no, seven inches, sir."
Ef John's bein' yore husband didn't mean nuthin' ter ye, his bein' my brother does mean a master lot ter me an' ther man thet kilt him's goin' ter die." "Will," she began, brokenly, "ye was always like a real brother ter me in ther old days ... hain't ye got no pity left in yore heart fer me...? Don't ye remember nothin' but ther day thet John died...?"
"Him's not drownin' yet," answered the matter-of-fact native. "Me 'vise you to let Jakolu go. Him's can sweem berer dan you. See, here am bit plank, too, me take dat."
I know nothing about hydrogen or oxygen or any other 'gen. So I set them a paper in common sense, or what I called 'Applied Science. One of my questions was, 'What would you do to cure a cold in the head? One young lady answered, 'I should put my feet in hot mustard and water till you were in a profuse perspiration. Another said, 'I should put him to bed, give him a soothing drink, and sit by him till he was better. But, on reconsideration, she ran her pen through all the 'him's' and 'he's, and substituted 'her' and 'she."
Perceiving this, March at once changed his tone, and, with a feeling of respect which he could not well account for, said rather bluntly "What's your name?" "Mary." "Ay! did your father give you that name?" "My father?" echoed the girl, looking hastily up. "Ay, did Dick give it you?" "Did him tell you him's name be Dick?" asked Mary. "Oh! he's known by another name to you, then, it would seem.
See, I even make some few preparations got straw in de corner for lie on soon git meat an' drink if him's required." "Very suitable indeed, but if you have brought me here to hide, as I still suspect, my poor fellow, you have troubled yourself in vain, for my mind is made up."
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