United States or Iraq ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
So I look at my hoe-handle, and say I, "My lady, it is known to me." "Well, now, Butter," she goes on, "thou most wise, most excellent, most cunning, most delectable of Butters, I have concocted a plan. But I would not thy mome heard us;" and with that she makes me send away Joe, the under-gardener.
To "GIMBLE" is to make holes like a gimlet. 'Of course it is. It's called "WABE," you know, because it goes a long way before it, and a long way behind it 'And a long way beyond it on each side, Alice added. 'Exactly so. And a "BOROGOVE" is a thin shabby-looking bird with its feathers sticking out all round something like a live mop. 'And then "MOME RATHS"? said Alice.
'I can explain all the poems that were ever invented and a good many that haven't been invented just yet. This sounded very hopeful, so Alice repeated the first verse: 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. 'That's enough to begin with, Humpty Dumpty interrupted: 'there are plenty of hard words there.
Now, to quail under thoughts of terror on a morning like this, with Lys in the saddle beside me, no matter what had happened or might happen was impossible. Moreover, Môme came sneaking after us. I asked Tregunc to catch him, for I was afraid he might be brained by our horses' hoofs if he followed, but the wily puppy dodged and bolted after Lys, who was trotting along the highroad.
It might have been a stone; there were plenty of them lying about. When I entered my garden I saw Môme sprawling on the stone doorstep. He eyed me sideways and flopped his tail. "Are you not mortified, you idiot dog?" I said, looking about the upper windows for Lys. Môme rolled over on his back and raised one deprecating forepaw, as though to ward off calamity.
"You heard me, Max Fortin." I rose and picked up my gun. Môme came and pushed his head into my hand. "That's a fine dog," observed Durand, also rising. "Why don't you wish to find his skull?" I asked Le Bihan. "It would be curious to see whether the arrow brand really burned into the bone." "There is something in that scroll that I didn't read to you," said the mayor grimly.
"A birdie with a yellow bill Hopped upon the window-sill, Cocked his shining eye and said 'Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head!" In a tiny hollow I found still another, by the same hand: "'T was brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe." As I went back to the house, bearing my findings, I met my little boy friend.
But I knew it was useless; for it is easier to move the stars from their courses than to make an obstinate Breton talk. We walked on for a minute or two in silence. "Where is the Brigadier Durand?" I asked, motioning Môme to come out of the wheat, which he was trampling as though it were heather.
Then with the butt of my gun I pushed the skull over the edge of the pit and watched it roll to the bottom; and as it struck the bottom of the pit, Môme, my dog, suddenly whipped his tail between his legs, whimpered, and made off across the moor. "Môme!" I shouted, angry and astonished; but the dog only fled the faster, and I ceased calling from sheer surprise.
I wondered, Môme came sneaking out to be comforted, and I forgave him for Lys's sake, whereupon he frisked. "You bounding cur," said I, "now what on earth started you off across the moor? If you do it again I'll push you along with a charge of dust shot."
Word Of The Day