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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Not worth the trouble," was the grim answer. "Jing!" said Dan. "I'd try it, sure." "Would you?" asked Mr. Wirt. "Yes," replied Dan, decidedly. "If a ship can float, it must be worth something. I'd try to fling a hawser about it somewhere, and haul it in and dry-dock it to find out what was wrong.
Pretty sailboats were flitting hither and thither on sunny wings; the white stretch of beach was gay with bathers; the full notes of an orchestra came from the band stand on the jutting pier. "Jing!" exclaimed Dan, in amazement at such a festive scene. "Is this Killykinick?" "No," was Dud Fielding's surly answer. "I wish it was. But I mean to cut over here to the Fosters whenever I can.
Them others ain't made to stand rough weather; but as I take it, you're a sort of Mother Carey chicken that's been nested in the storm. And I don't think you'll care to be boxed up below with them fair-weather chaps. Suppose, being second mate, you swing a hammock up on the deck with Jeb and me?" "Jing! I'd like that first rate," was the delighted answer.
Abe asked as he and Samson were unhitching. "Yes, sir." "By jing!" the slim giant exclaimed. "I reckon you feel like throwin' off yer harness an' takin' a roll in the grass." They had a dinner of prairie thickens and roast venison, flavored with wild grape jelly, and creamed potatoes and cookies and doughnuts and raisin pie.
I should like to call him so. I admire him." And I went on to tell of what he had done at Vicksburg, leaving out, however, my instrumentality in having him sent north. The President used almost Sherman's words. "By Jing!" he exclaimed. If it wasn't for them, the South would have quit long ago."
To-be-sure, I went to Sunday School and meetin' with the rest I jing! I had to! Huh! My old dad would just naturally a took th' hide off me if I hadn't. Yes sir-ee, you bet I went to church. But all the same I didn't want to. An' they sorter foundered me on religi'n, I reckon, Jim and Bill and Tom and Dave.
About one o'clock on the following Wednesday, Uncle Bobbie Wicks dropped into the printing office. Udell had not returned from dinner. "Good afternoon, Mr. Wicks," said Dick, looking up from his work, "take a seat. You want to see a proof of those letter-heads, I suppose. Jack, take a proof of that stuff of Mr. Wicks'." Uncle Bobbie sank, puffing, into a chair. "I jing. Wish't I didn't get so fat.
A day later he called for a consultation with Elder Wicks, and Uncle Bobbie said: "To-be-sure, it's mighty hard for me to advise you in a thing like this; for as a member of the church, I'm bound to say stay; and as a member of the Association, I say, accept. I jing! I don't know what to do."
Just as well to keep the evil eye off. Coo oo oo! She's going it reg'lar, same as the tide of a summer's day. By jing, Kitty, I didn't think there was so much fun in babies." Kate, seated at the table, was pouring out the tea, and a sudden impulse seized her. "That's the way," she said. "First the wife is everything; but the child comes, and then good-bye to the mother who brought it."
I told him of Poe's contrivance of the hook and chain, and how the heaviest rails were easily overturned with it, and how the ties were piled and fired and the rails twisted out of shape. The President listened to every word with intense interest. "By Jing!" he exclaimed, "we have got a general. Caesar burnt his bridges behind him, but Sherman burns his rails. Now tell me some more."
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