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An', Bill, when ye git them picters printed remember I'm in one, an' that pelt thief, too." "I'll see you get copies of both. Good-by!" called out Will. They trudged back with less ambition to make time than when on the morning tramp, for all of them were feeling a little stiff.
Hopkins's words, "They looked like picters, and behaved like angels." That evening, Sunday evening as it was, there was a quiet meeting of some few friends at The Poplars. It was such a great occasion that the Sabbatical rules, never strict about Sunday evening, which was, strictly speaking, secular time, were relaxed. Father Pemberton was there, and Master Byles Gridley, of course, and the Rev.
He shook me cordyully by the hand we exchanged picters, so we could gaze upon each other's liniments, when far away from one another he at the hellum of the ship of State, and I at the hellum of the show bizniss admittance only 15 cents. Notwithstandin I hain't writ much for the papers of late, nobody needn't flatter theirselves that the undersined is ded.
Once she called his attention to a celebrated painter in the crowd. Uncle William's eye rested impartially upon him for a moment and returned to its sky-line. "He looks to me kind o' pindlin'. One o' the best, is he?" "He's not strong, you mean?" "Well, not strong, and not much to him as if the Lord was kind o' skimped for material. Is that one o' his picters?" Her eyes followed his hand. "Alan's!
Jan was profuse of thanks, and by the woman's desire he sat down to share their breakfast. The hunchback examined his sketch-book, and, as he laid it down again, he asked, "Did you ever make picters on stone, eh?" "Before I could get paper, I did, sir," said Jan. "But could you now? Could you make 'em on a flat stone, like a paving-stone?" "If I'd any thing to draw with, I could," said Jan.
Elihu Vedder's picters rousted up deep emotions in my soul jest about the deepest I have got, and the most mysterious and weird. Other artists may paint the outside of things, but he goes deeper, and paints the emotions of the soul that are so deep that you don't hardly know yourself that you've got them of that variety.
It was the first Tusky and me had seen in them parts, so we run out to view her. Owin' to the high spots on the road, she looked like one of these movin' picters, as to blur and wobble; sounded like a cyclone mingled with cuss-words, and smelt like hell on housecleanin' day. "Which them folks don't seem to be enjoyin' of the scenery," says I to Tusky.
"I don't know, picters are the fashion now-a-days who knows but she may yet have one hung up at the Academy." A grim smile came to aunt Hannah's face. "You may be right, Nathan," she said. "More strange things than that have happened in our time, so I'll just do as you think best, but she does waste a good deal of time and candle-light with her paints and things."
"That he are, Coyote 'Pash, the very niggurs that bobtailed this child's ears. I kin swar to thur ugly picters anywhur I get my peepers upon 'em. Wouwough ole woofy! got 'ee at last, has he! Yur a beauty, an' no mistake."
"I am at present," said the man, smiling. "I left a friend on the beach below. I wasn't sure how I should find you." His courteous glance took in the young man. Uncle William turned quickly. "It's Mr. Curie," he said, "the one that bought your picters. And he's left somebody a friend down below. Mebbe you wouldn't mind stepping down and fetchin' 'em up." "Of course."
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