United States or Bangladesh ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Besides," put in the old soldier, "even though we are Christians like yourself, we might as well have been drowned for all that you did to help us." "What could we have done?" Meanwhile Ossip had remained lying on the ground with one leg stretched out at full length, and tremulous hands fumbling at his greatcoat as under his breath he muttered: "Holy Mother, how wet I am!
Meanwhile the Morduine ran by my side, cursing vigorously as he did so, and Ossip followed us, walking backwards. "No, no, Narodetz," he said. "But, my good Ossip " "Never mind. What has to be, has to be." "But, as likely as not, we may remain stuck here for two days!" "Never mind even if we DO remain stuck here." "But what of the festival?"
So I said to my mates, 'Be off with you, my good fellows, and may God send that no mishap befall you! And for this presumptuousness of mine I have been punished already, for, as you can see, have as good as broken my leg." "Yes," ejaculated the sergeant grimly. "But if you had been drowned, what then?" Ossip sighed wearily. "What then, do you say, your Excellency?
The police have been sent for." And this led Boev to exclaim to Ossip: "Why pretend like that?" "Pretend? "Yes you." "What do you mean?" "I mean that it was you who egged us on to cross the river." "You say that it was I?" "I do." "Indeed?" "Aye," put in Budirin quietly, but incisively. And him the Morduine supported by saying in a sullen undertone: "It was you, mate. By God it was.
"A narrow shave of saying Vespers tonight with the devils in Hell!" he remarked as he clambered back, and stood grinning with an even more angular and attenuated appearance than usual. The next moment Boev achieved a second plunge, and screamed, as before, for help. "Don't shout, you goat of a Yashka!" Ossip exclaimed as he threatened him with the spirit-level. "Why scare people? I'll give it you!
The International in a recent issue had this to say concerning this talented authoress: "'Ossip Schubin' is the pseudonym of Aloysia Kirschmer, an Austrian authoress of growing popularity. She was born in Prague, in June, 1854, and her early youth was spent on a country estate of her parents.
Yet, soaked though we were, Ossip might verily have known the number of cracks in advance, so smooth and harelike was his progress from floe to floe as at intervals he faced about, watched us, and cried sonorously: "That's the way to do it, eh?"
How should Ossip have known so well that I should not re-correct the 6 into a 5, or that I should not tell the contractor that the men have bartered a plank for liquor?" Again, there befell an occasion when the men stole two pounds' weight of five vershok mandrels and bolts. "Look here," I said to Ossip warningly. "I am going to report this."
From that time forth, Ossip of the curly, silvered head, bright eyes, and shadowy soul became an object of agreeable interest for me. Indeed, there grew up between us a species of friendship, even though I could see that a civil bearing towards me in public was a thing that it hurt him to maintain.
Watch my feet, and don't crowd too much upon one another, but keep each at a sazhen's distance or more in fact, the more the better. Yes, come, mates!" With which, stuffing his cap into his bosom, and grasping the spirit-level in his hands, Ossip set foot upon the ice with a sliding, cautious, shuffling gait.
Word Of The Day