Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 24, 2025
"Goin' to de dev'," said the sweetly-smiling young man. The schooner-captain, leaning against the shrouds, and even Baptiste, laughed outright. "O Jools, you mustn't!" "Well, den, w'at I shall do wid IT?" "Any thing!" answered the parson; "better donate it away to some poor man " "Ah! Misty Posson Jone', dat is w'at I want. You los' five hondred dollar' 'twas me fault." "No, it wa'n't, Jools."
"All right!" cried the Creole; "I thing he's willin'. Adieu, Posson Jone'. My faith'! you are the so fighting an' moz rilligious man as I never saw! Adieu! Adieu!" Baptiste uttered a cry and presently ran by his master toward the schooner, his hands full of clods. St.
Jules, me boy, juz the man to make complete the game! Posson Jone', it was a specious providence! I win in t'ree hours more dan six hundred dollah! Look." He produced a mass of bank-notes, bons, and due-bills. "And you got the pass?" asked the parson, regarding the money with a sadness incomprehensible to Jules. "It is here; it take the effect so soon the daylight."
"Good-bye, dear Jools," continued the parson. "I'm in the Lord's haynds, and he's very merciful, which I hope and trust you'll find it out. Good-bye!" the schooner swang slowly off before the breeze "goodbye!" St. Ange roused himself. "Posson Jone'! make me hany'ow dis promise: you never, never, NEVER will come back to New Orleans." "Ah, Jools, the Lord willin', I'll never leave home again!"
"Mais, it was!" "No!" "It was me fault! I swear it was me fault! Mais, here is five hondred dollar'; I wish you shall take it. Here! I don't got no use for money. Oh, my faith! Posson Jone', you must not begin to cry some more." Parson Jones was choked with tears.
'ow I am lucky! the money I los', it was not mine, anyhow! My faith! shall a man make hisse'f to be the more sorry because the money he los' is not his? Me, I would say, 'it is a specious providence. "Ah! Misty Posson Jone'," he continued, "you make a so droll sermon ad the bull-ring. Ha! ha! I swear I thing you can make money to preach thad sermon many time ad the theatre St. Philippe.
Me, if I should be miserabl' like that I would kill meself." The countryman only shook his head. "Bien, Posson Jone', I have the so good news for you." The prisoner looked up with eager inquiry. "Las' evening when they lock' you, I come right off at M. De Blanc's house to get you let out of de calaboose; M. De Blanc he is the judge. So soon I was entering Ah!
"You see, Jools, every man has his conscience to guide him, which it does so in" "Oh, yes!" cried St.-Ange, "conscien'; thad is the bez, Posson Jone'. Certainlee!
"Posson Jone'," said Jules, leaning against the wall and smiling, "I swear you is the moz funny man I ever see. If I was you I would say, me, 'Ah! 'ow I am lucky! the money I los', it was not mine, anyhow! My faith! shall a man make hisse'f to be the more sorry because the money he los' is not his? Me, I would say, 'it is a specious providence. "Ah!
"When Parson Jones awoke, a bell was somewhere tolling for midnight. Somebody was at the door of his cell with a key. The lock grated, the door swung, the turnkey looked in and stepped back, and a ray of moonlight fell upon M. Jules St.-Ange. The prisoner sat upon the empty shackles and ring-bolt in the centre of the floor. "Misty Posson Jone'," said the visitor, softly. "O Jools!"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking