Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 11, 2025
Jenkins, don't I wish you could always toast muffins for me! Is that some ham?" His eyes had caught a small dish of ham, in delicate slices, put there to tempt poor Jenkins. But he was growing beyond such tempting now, for his appetite wholly failed him. It was upon this point he had been undergoing Mrs. Jenkins's displeasure when Roland interrupted them.
Readers remember how Jenkins's Ear re-emerged, Spring gone a year, in a blazing condition? Here, through SYLVANUS URBAN himself, are two direct glimpses, a twelve-month nearer hand, which show us how the matter has been proceeding since: "LONDON, 19th FEBRUARY, 1739.
I don't mind them; deaneries don't trouble themselves with sheriff's officers." He glided away, and Arthur went straight to the office. Hamish was alone; he was seated at Jenkins's desk, writing a note. "You here still, Hamish! Where's Yorke?" "Echo answers where," replied Hamish, who appeared to have recovered his full flow of spirits. "I have seen nothing of him."
Jenkins's father-in-law, the worthy gentleman who gave the shepherd's wife the blankets, in the first part of this history, arrived at the parsonage before Mr. Johnson left it, and assisted in fitting up the clerk's cottage. Mr.
Miss Laura gave one cry of pity, then with a very pale face she dropped her dress, and seizing a little penknife from her pocket, she hacked at the rope that tied the cow to the manger, and cut it so that the cow could lie down. The first thing the poor cow did was to lick her calf, but it was quite dead. I used to think Jenkins's cows were thin enough, but he never had one that looked like this.
That night the half- consumed fragment of John Jenkins's cigar set fire to his work-shop and burned it up. together with all his tools and materials. There was no insurance. "Then you still persist in marrying John Jenkins?" queried Judge Boompointer, as he playfully, with paternal familiarity, lifted the golden curls of the village belle, Mary Jones.
"Look here!" exhibiting the parchments on Jenkins's desk, all so neatly left "here's an array! Jenkins did not intend to stay away, when he left those last night, I know." "He intend to stay away! catch him thinking of it," retorted Mrs. Jenkins. "It is as I have just told him that he'd come in his coffin.
A sharp knock at the office door, and there entered a little dark woman, in a black bonnet and a beard. She was Mr. Jenkins's better half, and had the reputation for being considerably the grey mare. "Good morning, Mr. Galloway. A pretty kettle of fish, this is!" "What's the matter now?" asked Mr. Galloway, surprised at the address. "Where's Jenkins?"
And it's my firm belief that if he knew a week's holiday would save him from his coffin, he'd not take it, unless I was at his back to make him. It's well he has somebody to look after him that's not quite deficient of common sense!" "Well, this is a plague!" grumbled Roland. "So it is for me, I know, if for nobody else," was Mrs. Jenkins's reply.
"Here are these leases, but they are not wanted until to-morrow. Who says we can't work in this office?" Arthur laughed good-naturedly, to think of the small amount, out of that day's work, which had fallen to Roland's share. Some time elapsed. Mr. Galloway came into their room from his own to consult a "Bradshaw," which lay on the shelf, alongside Jenkins's desk.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking