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Updated: June 8, 2025
"I've jest been down at the point, and there's a rig'lar nor'-wester a-comin' down. The ice is sweepin' into the river, an' it'll be choked up by to-morrow, I'm afraid." Stanley received this piece of intelligence with a slight frown, and looked seaward, where a dark line on the horizon and large fields of ice showed that the man's surmise was likely to prove correct.
I ain't lyin'. You'd better look spry: thar's another feller snoopin' 'round yere only he barked up the wrong tree, and thought it was Cynthia, jist as you did." "Another feller?" repeated the astonished Bowers. "Yes; a rig'lar sport. He was orful keen on that po'try, too, you bet. So you'd better hump yourself afore somebody else cuts in.
Mar got a hundred dollars for that pome, from that editor feller and his pardner. I reckon that's the rig'lar price, eh?" he added, with a sudden suspicious caution. "I reckon so," replied Mr. Bowers, blankly. "But look here, Bob! Do you mean to say it was your mother your MOTHER, Bob, who wrote that poem? Are you sure?" "D'ye think I'm lyin'?" said Bob, scornfully. "Don't I know?
"He has lost his all, and made himself a vagabond through the land; and I have reason to rue the day I ever crossed the threshold of his house." "Dr. Sitgreaves does not mean a rig'lar soldier, but a regular physician, madam," said the trooper. "Oh!" cried the maiden, again correcting herself, "for the best of all reasons; there was none to be had, so I took care of him myself.
"There, Captain Wharton," said the peddler, "there is a safe resting place for you; America has no arm that can reach you, if you gain the deck of that ship. She is sent up to cover the foragers, and support the troops; the rig'lar officers are fond of the sound of cannon from their shipping."
Well, Bob Mahone died o' dhrink and starvation, an' we had a beautiful wake; but there was a rig'lar shindy got up, an' two or three o' the county p'lice misbehaved themselves, so I jist floored them all, wan after the other, an' bolted. Well, I wint straight to Dublin, an' there I met wid an ould friend who was the skipper o' a ship bound for New York.
Some bunches of ribbons fell from the hands of Birch; his countenance changed instantly, losing its keen expression in intent meaning, as he answered slowly, "It is some time since the rig'lar cavalry were out, and I saw some of De Lancey's men cleaning their arms, as I passed their quarters; it would be no wonder if they took the scent soon, for the Virginia horse are low in the county."
Turn, so as to bring the daylight in the range now, see, he moves, and seems to be looking earnestly at something to the eastward. That is a royal sentinel; two hundred of the rig'lar troops lay on that hill, no doubt sleeping on their arms." "Then," cried Henry, "let us join them, and our danger is ended."
A right rig'lar swell! I knows 'em soverings an' red socks. What's come to our Mattie? 'Ere's Daddy Longlegs arter her, vith his penny and his blessin'! an' 'ere's this 'ere mighty swell vith his soverings an' his red socks! An' she's 'ungry, poor gal! This 'ere yellow-boy? I 'ain't got no faith in swells no more 'n in Daddy Longlegses I 'ain't! S'posin' he wants to marry her? Not if I knows it.
But I say, Mattie, you don't want nobody arter you do you now? Mat. I don't know what you mean by that, Bill. Bill. You don't want a father do you now? Do she, Susan? Sus. We want no father a hectorin' here, Bill. You 'ain't seen one about, have you? Bill. I seen a rig'lar swell arter Mattie, anyhow. Mat. What do you mean, Bill? Bill.
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