Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 6, 2025
Maybe there'll be a pattern for a cucumber milkin' stool in this week's paper; somethin' made out of a soap-box, with cucumber leaves and blossoms painted on it with some green and yellow house paint that happens to be left over.
Fur Gord sake, des look at dem cows! All squez up together 'g'ins' dem bars in dat sof' mud des like I knowed dey gwine be an' me late at my milkin'! You Lady! Teck yo' proud neck down f'om off dat heifer's head! Back, I tell yer! Don't tell me, Spot! Yas, I know she impose on you yas she do. Reachin' her monst'ous mouf clair over yo' po' little muley head. Move back, I say, Lady!
I wasn't a-goin' to take nobody's word in such a matter, and hauled her on down to the store and seed the storekeeper pay her extry for that thar butter and here we air. Tie the knot, preacher; yer dollar is ready for ye, and we must be gittin' along home it's 'most milkin' time, The preacher he tied the knot, and Shalliday and the new Miz. Shalliday they got along home."
"Keyser, you lazy vagabone! Why don't you 'tend to milkin' them cows? Not one mossel of supper do you put in your mouth this night unless you do the milkin' right off. You sha'n't touch a crust, or my name's not Emeline Keyser!" Then Keyser leaped to his feet in a perfect frenzy of rage and hurled the chair at Mrs. Keyser; whereupon she seized the poker and came toward him with savage earnestness.
Ah, Bracky, the kind hand and the kind word that you liked so well will never be wid you more that low sweet song that you loved to listen to, and that made you turn round while she was milkin' you, an' lick her wid your tongue from pure affection for what was there that had life that didn't love her? That low, sweet song, Bracky, you will never hear again.
They'll jest keep y' plowin' corn and milkin' cows till the day of judgment. Come, Julyie, I ain't got no time to fool away. I've got t' get back t' that grain. It's a whoopin' old crop, sure's y'r born, an' that means som'pin' purty scrumptious in furniture this fall. Come, now."
"I reckon I should feel better for eatin'," said Abner, promptly. "Jest you wait till I get through milkin', and we'll see what Mrs. Wiggins has got for us." Abner heard these words with joy, for he was always possessed of a good appetite. "I say, bub, I'm glad I run away," he remarked, aside, to Herbert. "We live enough sight better than we did at home."
"Why, you see," said the squire, hesitating, while a mean thought entered his, mind, "she's been feedin' in my pastur' all the mornin', and I calc'late I'm entitled to the next milkin', you'd better come 'round to-night, just after milkin', and then you can take her."
Will you have some of your own currants, my dear? Hilda has been helping me a great deal, Father," she added, addressing her husband. "I don't know how I should have got all my currants picked without her help." "Has she so?" exclaimed the farmer, fixing his keen gray eyes on the girl. "Waal! waal! to think o' that! Why, we sh'll hev her milkin' that cow soon, after all; hey, Huldy?"
When his Aunt Sophie died, I promised her I'd raise him right. The work here don't amount to nothin', anyhow not if you compare it with what I done when I was a boy. Why, on my father's farm, up-state, I was out of my bed before sunup, winter and summer, doin' chores, milkin', waterin' the stock, hoein', and so on. What's a few dishes to that? What's a bed or two? and a little sweepin'? And look!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking