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Updated: May 18, 2025
There was no doubt about the matter the pardon should be obtained. So at least swore, with a round oath, Professor Rub-a-dub, and so finally thought the illustrious Von Underduk, as he took the arm of his brother in science, and without saying a word, began to make the best of his way home to deliberate upon the measures to be adopted.
"It's most 'citing," she said. "'Fore we does anything else we must 'tend to the funerals there is such a lot of dead 'uns to bury this morning. Come 'long to the dead-house at once, Iris." "I must smell the Scotch roses first," answered Iris. "You can do that afterwards, can't you? There's poor Rub-a-Dub.
Diana did not seem to feel anything at all. She walked along, singing as she walked. "We's going to the dead-house," she said. "Rub-a-Dub's dead." "You'll never know fear any more, Little dear; Good-by, Rub-a-Dub." "Oh, don't Di! You make me feel so frightened," said Orion. "Why do you talk like that? Can't you 'member nothing?" "Course I 'member," said Diana. "Rub-a-Dub's dead."
Murch was called 'Captain Snarl'; a tall, fierce-looking man, who just filled my idea of a Spanish freebooter, was 'Dr. Coddle. I think his real name was Wood. The rum seems to make them crazy, for one, who was called 'Rub-a-dub, pitched 'Dr. Coddle' head and heels into the water.
As Yuill spoke the quick rub-a-dub of a drum was heard. "The soldiers!" Gavin let go his hold of the old man, who hastened away to give himself up. "That's no the sojers," said a woman; "it's the folk gathering in the square. This'll be a watery Sabbath In Thrums." "Rob Dow," shouted Gavin, as Dow flung past with a scythe in his hand, "lay down that scythe." "To hell wi' religion!"
I dweam that you is shotted, and that I is back again in the dear old garden at home with all the pets; and that Rub-a-Dub is alive again. I dweam that you is shotted down dead, and you can do no more harm, and " But Diana could not proceed any further. Mrs.
There was a dead bee, and two butterflies; there were two dead worms and a dead toad; also three or four beetles in different stages of decomposition, and a terribly crushed spider and solemnly lying in the midst of his dead brethren lay Rub-a-Dub, the precious and dearly loved piebald mouse. "They look beautiful, poor darlin's," said Diana; "they will most fill up the cemetery.
His little claws are blue, and oh! his little nose, and he cannot see; he is stone dead, father." "Well, you shall go into Beaminster to-morrow and buy another mouse," said Mr. Delaney. Diana gazed at him with grave, wondering black eyes. "That would not be Rub-a-Dub," she said; then she buried her little, fat face on his shoulder and sobs shook her frame.
Most of them is to be buried pwivate, 'cos they are not our own pets, you know; but Rub-a-Dub is sure to have a public funeral, and an insipcron, and all the rest." Mr. Delaney followed Diana into the small shed which the children called the dead-house. He gazed solemnly at the shelf which she indicated, and on which lay the several dead 'uns.
I know of no two more pertinacious incendiaries in the whole country; nor will they themselves deny the charge. In fact, this noise-making twain are the two sticks of a drum for keeping up what Daniel Webster called 'the rub-a-dub of agitation." On March 19, 1860, Mrs.
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