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Updated: June 5, 2025
If you think to sketch the English in a way any one will stop to look at, you have missed a figur', that's all. You can't do it nohow; you can't fix it. There is no contrasts here, no variation of colours, no light and shade, no nothin'. What sort of a pictur' would straight lines of any thing make?
"The less you talks to her," I sez, "the better you'll get on with her," I sez, "and the better kind o' pictur you'll make out on her," I sez to the shiny un; "an' don't you go an' arst who her father is," I sez, "for that word 'ull bring such a horful look on her face," I sez, "as is enough to skear anybody to death. I sha'n't forget the look the fust time I seed it," I sez.
"Haul down your colors, matey, which they make a pretty pictur', they do." He came overpoweringly towards Desmond, his arm and stump spread wide as if to embrace him. "I may be wrong," said Desmond, "but have I not the pleasure of addressing Mr. William Bulger?" Bulger started as if shot. His broad face spelled first blank amazement, then incredulity, then surprised belief.
Then there's a bit of the dress 'at was found on thet gal 'twas cast ashore ten year ago; and there's a piece o' thet one 't Zeba Osterhaus hed on when she hed her pictur' took, an' these," blushing brightly, "are scraps o' my own dresses thet I ain't wearin' yet. Then there's hunderds more, but I guess you'll reco'nize most on 'em.
Pictur', if you can, how full of penitence he is, 'nd how full uv po'try 'nd gentleness 'nd misery. The Lord ain't a-goin' to be too hard on that poor wretch. Of course we can't comprehend Divine mercy; we only know that it is full of compassion, a compassion infinitely tenderer and sweeter than ours.
"A moral! an' what's a moral?" sez I. "You ain't a-goin' to play none o' your shiny-coat larks wi' my pootty darter," sez I. "I wants to paint her portrait," sez 'e, "an' then put it in a pictur."
"Cap'n Nazro," said January, speaking with emphasis, "if there is a pictur in this world, o' health, and pootiness, and goodness, it's that child. It's that little un, sir. Not to be beat in this country, nor yet any other 'cordin' as I've voyaged." "Nice little gal!" said Captain Nazro, assenting. "Mighty nice little gal! Ain't it time she was going to school, January?
"The pictur' in the firelight changes now," said Ezra, "an' seems as if I wuz in the old frame meetin'-house. The meetin'-house is on the hill, and meetin' begins at half-pas' ten. Our pew is well up in front, seems as if I could see it now. It has a long red cushion on the seat, and in the hymn-book rack there is a Bible an' a couple of Psalmodies.
"Is thet air hired man o' yours a Britisher?" D'ri inquired as soon as the butler was gone. "He is from Liverpool," said she. "Thet's the hole 'n the fence," said he. "Thet's where the goose got away." "The goose! The geese!" said the baroness, thoughtfully. "I do not understand you." "Went 'n' blabbed, thet's whut he done," said D'ri. "Mebbe wrote 'em a letter, gol-dum his pictur'."
"Thar's plenty o' men and women grown, in these mountains, who don't know that the Government is ary thing but a president in a biled shirt who commands two-three judges and a gang o' revenue officers. They know thar's a president, because the men folks's voted for him, and the women folks's seed his pictur. They've heered tell about the judges; and they've seed the revenuers in flesh and blood.
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