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Updated: June 17, 2025
I gets trailed off that a-way after pore old Rainbow Sam, an' Slim Jim escapes my mem'ry complete. "Which the story of this gent, even the little we-alls knows, is a heap onusual. No one, onless he's the postmaster, ever does hear his name.
Persimmon hev got sech a fine mem'ry fur localities, ye see." Hite with a single gesture pulled off the bandage. "Waal, let him look about him hyar. I s'pose ye hev ter be more partic'lar 'n me 'count o' that stranger man's horse." Peters changed countenance, his attention riveted. "What horse?" he demanded. "The horse of the man ez war kilt, ye know folks hev laid that job ter you-uns.
""Which this agitated sport," observes Waco coldly to Shoestring Griffith, who comes loungin' up likewise, "asks whoever does these yere dastard deeds! Does you-all recall the fate, Shoestring, of the last misguided shorthorn who gives way to sech a query? My mem'ry is never ackerate as to trifles, an' I'm confoosed about whether he's shot or hung or simply burned alive."
Before they'd gone a half mile, them wards of the gov'ment, as I once hears a big chief from Washin'ton call 'em, takes the nephy from this yere fallacious agent an' by fourth drink time that mornin', or when it's been sun- up three hours, that nephy is nothin' but a mem'ry. "How do they kill him? In a fashion which, from the coigne your Apache views things, does 'em proud.
Though mental woe, More deadly still, scarce Fancy's self could know! O'er want and private griefs the soul can climb, Virtue subdues the one, the other Time: But at his country's fall, the patriot feels A grief no time, no drug, no reason heals. "Mem'ry! remorseless murderer, whose voice Kills as it sounds; who never says, Rejoice!
Why, ye couldn't hire some o' these Cape Cod females to get into a boat. Their men for generations was drowned and more'n forty per cent. of the stones in the churchyards along the coast, sacred to the mem'ry of the men of the fam'lies, have on 'em: 'Lost at sea. "Can't blame the women. Old Ella Coffin that lives on Narrer P'int over yonder ain't been to the main but once't in fifteen years.
If you only behaves as well for the next ten minutes, we shall feel quite a respec' for y'ur mem'ry. Now, shipmates, and pris'ners all, for'ard we goes, to carry out the second part of the sentence."
"And of all things, mention the soup we had last Thursday. No piece of poetry would be complete without that soup." "Who's making up poetry about soup?" roared Songbird Powell. But then he grew calmer. "All right, fellows, here goes." And he started: "Of all the days to mem'ry dear, The dearest days are those spent here, When we " "That's a libel!" interrupted Tom.
"Peggy 'lowed you'd be hungry, kid," said the cobbler, pushing a bowl in front of her. Mrs. Grandoken interrupted her husband with a growl. "If I've any mem'ry, you 'lowed it yourself, Lafe Grandoken," she muttered. A smile deepened on the cobbler's face and a slight flush rose to his forehead. "I 'lowed it, too, Peggy dear," he said.
On the venerable clause in the Catechism, in particular, which declares that all men sinned in Adam and fell with him, Candace made a dead halt: "I didn't do dat ar', for one, I knows. I's got good mem'ry, allers knows what I does, nebber did eat dat ar' apple, nebber eat a bit ob him. Don't tell me!"
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