United States or China ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
She sighed and bent her head and turned her eyes away from him, then spoke hurriedly: "I doan't knaw how to tell 'e, an' us reckoned theer weern't no call to, an' us weern't gwaine to tell; but these things be in the Lard's hand an' theer edn' no hidin' what He means to let out. A sorry, cruel home-comin' for 'e, Joe. Poor lass, her's done wi' all her troubles now, an' the unborn cheel tu.
'After a bit I catched the keeper hisself and the policeman at it; and there be another as knows it, and who do you think that be? It be the man in town as got the licence to sell game as haves most of my hares; the keeper selled he a lot as the money never got to my lard's pocket and the steward never knowed of. Look at that now!
Gray had never seen her husband in so downcast and despondent a mood, and as the days passed she began to worry about him and finally became alarmed. He had lost all interest in everything, and had a strange, unnatural look in his eyes that she did not like. One evening she sat down by his aide, and, taking his hand, said: "Be a brave man, Richard, and bear up. Th' Lard's never let Bob die so.
How well-fitted are the various brands of Christianity to the particular likings of their "flocks." The strongest outward manifestation of the religion of the West Indian black is this boisterous singing. All over town were dusky throngs exercising their strong untrained voices "in de Lard's sarvice"; though the West Indian is not noted as being musical.
Lad," he went on, now, with a smile, with a touch of his rough old hand, compelling my confidence and affection, "what's past is done with. Isn't you l'arned that yet? Old sins are as if they never had been. Else what hope is there for us poor sons of men? The weight o' sin would sink us. 'Tis not the dear Lard's way t' deal so with men. To-day is not yesterday. What was, has been; it is not.
"'Tis the Lard's doin', mother; an' the lil bwoy's better off now." "Take it calm, my poor good creature." "Try an' bring tears to your eyes, theer's a dear wummon." Tears finally came to her relief, and she wept and moaned while friends supported her, looking with wonder upon Michael, her husband. He stood aloof with the men about him. But never a word he spoke to his wife or any other.
"Look you, lad," he explained, in a sage whisper, "they're all mothers, an' they'd be wantin' t' stay where they was, an', ecod! they'd find a way." "Ah, well," I sighed, "'tis wearisome work this waitin'." "I'm thinkin' not," he answered, soberly, speaking rather to himself than to me. "'Tis not wearisome for such as know the good Lard's plan."
But you gived the bwoy some tidy belly-timber in the small hours o' day, an' he comed home dog-tired, but none the worse. An' thank 'e for they apples an' cream an' eggs, which I'm sorry they had sich poor speed. A butivul basket as hurt me to the heart to paart with. But I wasn't asked. No offense, I hope, 'bout it? Maybe uncle forgot 'twas the Lard's day?" "He'm the last ever to do that."
Burnish it all! I'll go along to church 'fore all men's eyes next Lard's Day ever is." "A gude thought, tu. Religion's a sort of benefit society, if you look at it, an' the church be the bank wheer us pays in subscriptions Sundays." "An' blamed gude interest us gets for the money," declared Mr. Blee.
I won't speak no more 'bout that subjec'. 'Tis good fashion weather for 'e just now, an us'll hope as you ban't gwaine to die for many a day." "Say it out, mister, say it out. I knaws what you means. You reckons if I gaws I'm lost." "My poor sawl, justice is justice; an' the Lard's all for justice an' no less. Theer's no favorin' wi' Him, Albert."
Word Of The Day