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Updated: May 22, 2025
The operation was a painful one, and the only thing that kept Marcy from crying out was the remembrance of Beardsley's words "I ain't got no use for a one-handed man." That broken arm would bring him a furlough. "There, now; that'll do. 'Vast heaving," said the captain, at length. "Put some of the stuff in that bottle on one of them bandages and hand it over here.
"So that vere the end o' the Corp's soldiering!" nodded Mr. Shrig. "Yes," sighed the Corporal, "a one-handed soldier ain't much good, ye see, sir." "So they throwed 'im out!" snarled Mr. Shrig. "Now Jarsper," smiled the giant, shaking his head. "Why so 'ard on the sarvice? They give me m' stripe." "And your dis-charge!" added Mr. Shrig. "And a pension," said the soldier. "Pension," sniffed Mr.
The recruit is indeed made to ride with a single snaffle in two hands, but only as a preparatory step to the one-handed style. His left hand then becomes his bridle hand, and that hand must hold the reins in such a manner as will require the least possible aid from the sword hand to shorten them as occasion may require.
Thus, in Warwickshire, it is the 'One-handed Boughton', who drives about in his coach and six, and makes the benighted traveller hold gates open for him; or it is 'Lady Skipwith', who passes through the country at night in the same manner.
I believe in Moffitt. We-e-e-ll!" drawled Fulkerson, with a long breath, "that's where I met old Dryfoos." "Oh yes! Dryfoos," said March. He observed that the waiter had brought the old one-handed German a towering glass of beer. "Yes," Fulkerson laughed. "We've got round to Dryfoos again. I thought I could cut a long story short, but I seem to be cutting a short story long.
One-handed riding is all right for military men, who have to wield a sword or lance, and polo players, who have to use a polo-stick, but it is ridiculous for ladies. Theory of the Seat Practical Details. The best seat for all practical purposes is evidently one which affords security and comfort to the rider and freedom from injury to the horse.
Here, the unwieldy Chinese junk; there, the fast-sailing Chinese passage-boat; now and then, the long snake-like opium-smuggler with his fifty oars; innumerable fishing-boats, all in pairs, with a drag-net extended from the one to the other; country boats of all descriptions passing to and fro, their crews all bent on money-getting, yet, never failing to cast a glance of mingled contempt and scorn at the "Fan qui"; the duck-boats on the river banks, their numerous tenants feeding in the adjacent rice-fields; a succession of little Chinese villages, with groupes of young Celestials staring at him with never-ending wonder; here and there, a tall pagoda rearing its lofty head high above the surrounding scenery, as if conscious of its great antiquity and of the sacred objects for which it was built; the Chinese husbandman with his one-handed plough, drawn by a single wild-looking buffalo; smiling cottages, surrounded with orange and other fruit-trees; the immense fleet of foreign ships anchored at Whampoa; these and a thousand other objects, all equally strange and new, attract the attention of the stranger as he sails up the "Quang Tung" river.
The shortstop is often the smallest man on a team, due no doubt to the theory that his work is largely in picking up grounders. The shortstop is often led into habits which are commonly known as "grand-stand plays"; that is, he attempts to make difficult plays or one-handed stops with an unnecessary display of motions, to bring the applause of the spectators.
Whether it was that Tashtego, that wild Indian, was so heedless and reckless as to let go for a moment his one-handed hold on the great cabled tackles suspending the head; or whether the place where he stood was so treacherous and oozy; or whether the Evil One himself would have it to fall out so, without stating his particular reasons; how it was exactly, there is no telling now; but, on a sudden, as the eightieth or ninetieth bucket came suckingly up my God! poor Tashtego like the twin reciprocating bucket in a veritable well, dropped head-foremost down into this great Tun of Heidelburgh, and with a horrible oily gurgling, went clean out of sight!
But Pierre did not seem to feel the blows. Leroux, one-handed, was at a disadvantage. He grasped his antagonist again, and the death-grapple began. It was a marvel that they could engage in so terrific a fight upon the ice-coated ledge and hold their balance there.
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