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Updated: May 27, 2025
I do not mean that Thomas was felt to be such by all whom he encountered; for his ambition was to rouse men from the sleep of sin; to set them face to face with the terrors of Mount Sinai; to "shak' them ower the mou' o' the pit," till they were all but choked with the fumes of the brimstone.
Mr Cupples flew at him, and would have knocked the bottle after the glass, had not Alec held it high above his reach, exclaiming, "Toots, man! I'm gaein' to pit it intil its ain neuk. Gang ye to yer bed, and lippen to me." "Ye gie me yer word, ye winna pit it to yer mou'?" "I do," answered Alec.
E tupu te fau; e toro to farero, e mou te taata. The hibiscus shall grow, the coral shall spread, and man shall cease. There is sleep on your eyelids, and the mats are ready."
"Definition!" repeated the marquis. "Is 't ower lang a word, my lord?" asked Malcolm. The marquis only smiled. "I ken what ye mean. It's a strange word in a fisher lad's mou', ye think. But what for should na a fisher lad hae a smatterin' o' loagic, my lord? For Greek or Laitin there's but sma' opportunity o' exerceese in oor pairts; but for loagic, a fisher body may aye haud his ban' in i' that.
* Euxoman gar autos ego anathema einai apo tou xristou uper tou adelphon mou suggenon mou kata sarxa. Euxoman, rendered in translation by I could wish forms in the imperfect of the indicative mood, in the Auic dialect. Mr. Pool was too accurate a scholar not to observe the disagreement of the translation with the original.
The chief quoted the death-sentence upon his race pronounced by the Tahitian prophets centuries ago: "E tupu te fau, et toro te farero, e mou te taata!" "The hibiscus shall grow, the coral spread, and man shall cease!" "There were, according to Captain Cook, sixty or seventy thousand Tahitians on this island when the whites came," continued the chief, sadly.
Here she heaved a sigh, which set the S. S. U. C. to laughing, and began. Wee, crimson-tippet Willie Wink, Wae's me, drear, dree, and dra, A waeful thocht, a fearsome flea, A wuther wind, and a'. Sair, sair thy mither sabs her lane, Her een, her mou, are wat; Her cauld kail hae the corbies ta'en, And grievously she grat. Ah, me, the suthering of the wind! Ah, me, the waesom mither!
Mooney's en ville, Mooney's sur mer, the Moira, Larchet's, Holles street hospital, Burke's. Eh? I am watching you. Go to hell! I paid my way. If I could only find out about octaves. Reduplication of personality. Who was it told me his name? Zoe mou sas agapo. Have a notion I was here before. When was it not Atkinson his card I have somewhere. Mac Somebody. Unmack I have it.
Yer father was a great man as weel's a great soger, Francie, and a deevil to fecht, as his men said. I hae mysel seen by the set mou 'at the teeth war clinched i' the inside o' 't, whan a' the time on the broo o' 'im sat never a runkle. Gien ever there was a man 'at cud think o' twa things at ance, your father cud think o' three; and thae three war God, his enemy, and the beast aneath him.
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