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I always heerd tell that them Roosians know what to do with other people's money and a Jew too! Well well and I got away without spending nothin'. He told me a lot of ways to spend my money, but most of 'em sounded like like what is it you call it " "Hot air." "That's jest the word hot air.

Being told that no one had seen his master, he was about to leave the hut in quest of him when he was collared by several stout men, and placed forcibly in front of a Russian with a huge red beard, who appeared to be the least exhausted of the party. "Come now, Dan, say somethin' to them Roosians."

But when the brother has saved the shipwrecked sailor, his work is done. He hands him over to the sister, who clothes him, feeds him, warms him as you see bein' done to them there Roosians and then sends him home. Every sailor in the country should be a member o' the Shipwrecked Mariners' Society, say I. I've been one myself for many years, an' it only costs me three shillings a year.

The b'ys of the rigimint shtandin' shoulder to shoulder, an' the faces av 'm blue wid powder, an' red wid blood, an' the bits o' b'ys droppin' round me loike twigs of an' ould tree in a shtorm. Just a cry an' a bit av a gurgle tru the teeth, an' divil the wan o' thim would see the Liffey side anny more. "'The Roosians are chargin'! shouts Sergeant-Major Kilpatrick.

Everybody knew old Jasper Trent, the Crimean Veteran who had helped to beat the "Roosians and the Proosians," and who, so it was rumored, had more wounds upon his worn, bent body than there were months in the year. The whole village was proud of old Jasper, proud of his age, proud of his wounds, and proud of the medals that shone resplendent upon his shrunken breast.

The b'ys of the rigimint shtandin' shoulder to shoulder, an' the faces av 'm blue wid powder, an' red wid blood, an' the bits o' b'ys droppin' round me loike twigs of an' ould tree in a shtorm. Just a cry an' a bit av a gurgle tru the teeth, an' divil the wan o' thim would see the Liffey side anny more. "'The Roosians are chargin'! shouts Sergeant-Major Kilpatrick.

We nigh sank in the harbour here, an' I had to run her ashore to perwent her goin' down in deep water. They're patchin' up the rotten plank at this minute, an' if old Stuart won't go in for a general overhaul, we'll be ready for sea in a day or two, and you'll have the pleasure o' navigatin' a lot o' wrecked Roosians to London. Now, waiter, ahoy! "Yessir."

'The Roosians are chargin' here they come! Shtandin' besoide me was a bit of a lump of a b'y, as foine a lad as ever shtood in the boots of me rigimint aw! the look of his face was the look o' the dead. 'The Roosians are comin' they're chargin'! says Sergeant-Major Kilpatrick, and the bit av a b'y, that had nothin' to eat all day, throws down his gun and turns round to run.

How'll yer face yer mother if yer turn yer back on the inimy of yer counthry? The b'y looks me in the eyes long enough to wink three times, picks up his gun, an' shtood loike a rock, he did, till the Roosians charged us, roared on us, an' I saw me slip of a b'y go down under the sabre of a damned Cossack.

An' there's Smoke, the black little devil didn't the Roosians have him for three years in the salt mines of Siberia, for poachin' on Copper Island, which is a Roosian preserve? Shackled he was, hand an' foot, with his mate.