United States or Guinea-Bissau ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The table hit'd be comp'ny." "Certainly we'll come," Nelia promised, "if he'd just soon." "I'd rather," Rasba assented, and at his tone Nelia felt a curious sensation of pity and mischievousness. At the same time, she recovered her self-possession.
"Co'rse," the stiller explained, as though an explanation were needed, "Parson Rasba ain' used to hit; he could carry more, an' hit'll take him longer to get lit up. But, law me, when hit begins to act! That's three yeah old, boys, mild, but no mewl yo' eveh saw has the kick that's got, apple an' berry cider, stilled down from the ferment!" Virtue had not been rewarded.
The frame was light, and the cabin was built with double boards, with building paper between, to keep out the cold wintry winds. "Gentlemen," Rasba choked, looking at the two donors of the gift, "I'm going to be the best kind of a man I know how " "It's your job to be a parson," Buck laughed. "If it wasn't for men like us, that need reforming, you'd be up against it for something to look out for.
I wa'n't such a bad-lookin' gal, afteh all. That taught me a lesson. I've always be'n real savin' sinct then, an' I ain't be'n ketched sinct with the choice to make of a 'vorce er a weddin' dress. No, indeed, not me!" Parson Rasba looked at her, and Nelia, her eyes twinkling, looked at the Parson. Nelia could understand the feelings in all their minds.
"I'll keep a-lookin'," Rasba assured him, "but I've kind-a lost the which-way down heah. One day I had the sun ahead, behind, and both sides " "There's maps in that pile of stuff in the corner," Buck said, going to the duffle. "You're on Sheet 4 now. Here's Caruthersville." "Yas, suh. Those red lines?" "The new survey.
The great river pouring by seemed to have a low, deep growl while the wind in the skies rumbled among the clouds. No wonder Rasba could understand! So Rasba wrestled; so he grappled with the things he must know, in the light of the things he did know. And a kind of understanding which was also peace comforted him.
Parson Rasba did not mince his words as he contemplated the joy he had felt in being eloquent and a "power" of a speaker from the pulpits of the mountain churches. The murdering by the feud fighters had taught him what he would never forget, and his frank acknowledgment of each rebuke gave him greater understanding. While the gale lasted he watched the river and the sky.
The power boat could tow the fleet out into the current, and hold it off sandbars or flank the bends. Rasba did as he was bid, and lashed the boats together with mooring lines, pin-head to towing bits, and side to side. Then he floated the boats all on one anchor line, and ran the launch up to the bow.
For long hours Parson Rasba endured the drifting sand and the biting wind which penetrated the weather-cracks in his poplar shanty-boat. It was not until near nightfall that it dawned on him that he need not remain there, that it was the simplest thing in the world to let go his hold and blow before the wind till he was clear of the sandblast. He did haul in his anchor and float away.
"I 'low hit were about time somebody shot yo' easy, so's to give yo' repentance a chance to catch up with yo' wickedness. Don't yo'?" Prebol glared at the accusation, but Rasba pretended not to notice. "Yo' see, Prebol, this world is jes' the hounds a-chasin' the rabbits, er the rabbits a-gittin' out the way.
Word Of The Day