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Updated: May 16, 2025
The soldier proceeded: "Well, you don't know where it's comin' from. 'E's up on one of these 'ere roofs, 'idin', an' you're down 'ere ... exposed. 'E kneels be'ind the parapet, an' 'as a shot at you, an' then 'e 'ops along the roof to another place, an' 'as another shot at you.... You don't 'alf begin to feel a bit jiggery when that's 'appening'...." There was no malice in that soldier.
"But I can write my own rot, surely." "In the face of all this litter of 'Ops. I daren't dispute that for a moment. But it isn't enough to write rot the public want a particular kind of rot. Now just play that over oblige me." He laid both hands on Lancelot's shoulders in amicable appeal.
Cybele is the Latin name of the goddess called by the Greeks Rhea and Ops. She was the wife of Cronos and mother of Zeus. In works of art she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes Juno and Ceres. Sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions at her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by lions.
"But I can write my own rot, surely." "In the face of all this litter of 'Ops. I daren't dispute that for a moment. But it isn't enough to write rot the public want a particular kind of rot. Now just play that over oblige me." He laid both hands on Lancelot's shoulders in amicable appeal.
"Well, according to the bond, or the deed, or whatever they calls it, it be doo tonight, at nine o'clock, sir, though Old Grimes, as a special favour, an' arter much persuading, 'ad agreed to hold over till next Saturday, on account o' the 'op-picking. But now seeing as there ain't no 'ops to be picked, why he'll fore-close to-night, an' glad enough to do it, you can lay your oath on that, Mr.
Cybele is the Latin name of the goddess called by the Greeks Rhea and Ops. She was the wife of Cronos and mother of Zeus. In works of art, she exhibits the matronly air which distinguishes Juno and Ceres. Sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions at her side, at other times riding in a chariot drawn by lions.
After a few weeks, when we were hardened somewhat, they began to inflict us with the torture known as "night ops." That means going out at ten o'clock under full pack, hiking several miles, and then "manning" the trenches around the town and returning to barracks at three A.M. This wouldn't have been so bad if we had been excused parades the following day. But no.
Character? he has the character of a bullet with a treble charge of powder behind it. Enthusiasm is the powder. That boy could get up an enthusiasm for the maiden days of Ops! He was going to reform the world, after your fashion, Austin, you have something to answer for. Unfortunately he began with the feminine side of it.
Thank you, Adam for telling me. You can go now." "Why then Good-night! Miss Anthea, mam, the mortgage is as good as paid, there ain't no such 'ops nowhere near so good as our'n be. An' you're quite free o' care, an' 'appy 'earted, Miss Anthea?" "Quite Oh quite, Adam!"
I did not see Stott again till August, and then I had a long talk with him on the Ailesworth County Ground, as together we watched the progress of Hampdenshire's defeat by Lancashire. "Oh! I can't learn him nothing," he broke out, as Flower was hit to the four corners of the ground, "'alf vollies and long 'ops and then a full pitch 'e's a disgrace."
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