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Updated: June 6, 2025
I daresay he'd a bin Prime Minister in no time- -he's just the sort. They likes a good old muddler for that work someone as has the knack o' addlin' the people's brains an' makin' them see a straight line as though'twere crooked. It keeps things quiet an' yet worrity-like first up, then down this way, then that way, an' never nothin' certain, but plenty o' big words rantin' round.
Lem likewise grappled with the struggling Belllounds. "Hyar, you Jack Belllounds," said Lem, "couldn't you see Wils wasn't packin' no gun? A-r'arin' like thet!... Stop your rantin' or we'll sure handle you rough." "The old man's comin'," called Jim, warningly. The rancher appeared. He strode swiftly, ponderously. His gray hair waved. His look was as stern as that of an eagle.
When she gits to rantin' about anythin' I've done ur hain't done all I got to do to shet 'er up is to start to tell 'er some'n somebody's has said about somebody else, an' she gits 'er cheer. So I try to keep a stock o' things on hand. Clem Dill's afeerd o' Mis' Dawson now.
There came a policeman, shoving through. "What's all this about?" The fellow with the kerosene can spoke up: "Here's this damn Arnychist prophet been incitin' the crowd and preachin' sedition! You better take him along, officer, and put him somewhere he'll be safe, because me and my buddies won't stand no more Bolsheviki rantin'."
She's writ to the Bishop, an' gone 'ome in a tearin' fit o' the rantin' 'igh-strikes, an' Mister Arbroath 'e's follerd 'er, an' left us wi' a curate a 'armless little chap wi' a bad cold in 'is 'ed, an' a powerful red nose but 'onest an' 'omely like 'is own face. An' 'e'll take the services till our own vicar comes 'ome, which'll be, please God, this day fortnight.
Your pa's been rantin' about her all winter an' an' he said you'd be pokin' her ways into our faces th' very day you got home. I 'spect she's th' one that got it into your head to talk of partin', most likely." "Oh, now, ma, don't go on like that. You don't know about Aunt Susan. She's the last person in the world to ever suggest such a thing.
I'm no wantin' you to be there afore the day is done. Dinna sing thae rantin' camp songs, and abune a' dinna whistle till a' things be settled; at ony rate, it's no canny." "Was there ever such a solemn face and cautious-spoken fellow living as you, Jock Grimond, though I've seen you take your glass, and unless my ears played me false, sing a song, too, round the camp-fire in days past.
Troth I wouldn't be in the same Woodward's coat for the wealth o' the world. As for Rantin' Rody, let him take care of himself. It's never safe to sport wid edged tools, and he'll be apt to find it so, if he attempts to put his tricks upon the conjurer."
"I was afeerd, though I couldn't let on at the time. Folks said he was powerful changeable. You see, he has treated other gals the same way. Sally, you must be brave, an' not let on. Why, thar was Mattie Logan jest look at her. Folks said she was a rantin' fool about 'im, but when he quit goin' thar she tuck up with Clem Dill, an' now she's a happy wife an' mother." Sally turned towards the gate.
Here I am, the rantin' Cannie Soogah, as large as life; and upon my profits maybe a little larger if the truth was known." "Cannie," said the proctor, "dix me, but I'm glad to see you and how are you, man? and do you carry your bones safe or your head upon your shoulders at all, durin' these wild times?" "Troth, and you may well say they're wild times, Mr.
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