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Updated: June 8, 2025
"'Lard, she'd say, 'I loves un all the more for their sins. Leave me wait oh, leave me wait here at the gate. Maybe sometime they'll come!" "But some," said I, in awe, "would wait forever an' ever an' ever " "Not one!" "Not one?" "Not one! 'Twould break the dear Lard's heart t' see un waitin' there."
"No. He'll do what's right a proper, braave man." "An 'mazin' rich seemin'ly. For the Lard's love, if you'm gwaine up Drift, take care o' all that blessed money. Doan't say no word 'bout it till you'm in the farm, for theer's them the tinners out o' work an' sich as 'ud knock 'e on the head for half of it. To think as Michael burned a hunderd pound!
Wonderful fine with all un as be in." "An' I'm glad t' hear un. 'Twill be givin' th' folk a chance t' pay th' debts. Th' two bad seasons must ha' put most of un in a bad way for debt." "Aye, 'twill that. An' now we're like t' have two fine seasons. 'Tis th' way un always runs." "'Tis th' Lard's way," said Mrs. Gray reverently.
"He left the cross what Mr. Grimbal found upsy-down in the airth; he stood up afore the company an' damned the glory of all Christian men. Ess fay, he done that fearful thing, an' if 't weern't enough to turn the Lard's hand from un, what was? Snug an' vitty he weer afore that, so far as anybody knawed; an' since why, troubles have tumbled 'pon each other's tails like apple-dranes out of a nest."
With good sense and the Lard's help you pulls out of a wonderful bad fix. You does all you knows how, and then prays the Lard. That's the way! 'Tis no use wastin' time prayin' till you does your best first," and Skipper Zeb nodded his head approvingly. "Well, now!" and leaning back his head he looked at Charley approvingly. "When you shoots a deer I'll be namin' you a Labradorman!
All Tregenzas was o' the Lard's harvest; an' should I, as feared God more'n any o' 'em, an' fought for the Lard of Hosts 'fore I was higher'n this table should I Michael Tregenza, breed a damned sawl? The thot's comed black an' terrible 'pon my mind 'fore to-day; an' I've put en away from me, judgin' 'twas the devil.
The wicked," he took pains to explain, "knows the dear Lard's love. An', somehow, I isn't feelin' it as I should. An' I wisht I'd sinned a wee bit more." Still the wind called to him. "Ecod!" he cried, impatiently, his hand moving feebly to tweak his nose, but failing by the way. "There I been an' gone an' made another mistake! Sure, 'tis awful!
Na, na, quo' I, depend upon't the lard's been imposed upon wi that wily do-little deevil, Johnnie Howie. But Lord haud a care o' us, sirs, how can that be, quo' she again, when the laird's sae book-learned, there's no the like o' him in the country side, and Johnnie Howie has hardly sense eneugh to ca' the cows out o' his kale-yard? Aweel, aweel, quo' I, but ye'll hear he's circumvented him with some of his auld-warld stories, for ye ken, laird, yon other time about the bodle that ye thought was an auld coin"
An' 'tis the same here, 'cause God's eye be on you, Joan Tregenza, an' His eye caan't be fixed 'pon no spot wi'out brightening all around. You mind me, that's solemn truth. The Lard's watchin' over you watchin' double tides, as the sailors say and so this bit o' airth's smilin' from the herb o' the field to the biggest tree as graws.
Chirgwin to make Joan write out a will. "You never knaws," she said. "God keep the gal, but they do die now an' agin. 'Tweer better she wrote about the money 'cordin' to a lawyer's way. And, say, for the Lard's love, not to leave it to Michael. So well light a fire wi' it as that.
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