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Updated: June 20, 2025


Went down my gullet like a buckshot down a ten-foot shaft. He struggled for air and continued; 'Here am I, says he, 'William Pemberton, celebratin' Christmas by dyeing my linin' green and smellin' like a recess in a country school. His ventilation give out again, whilest he worked his face into knots and flew his hands around.

He can take in whole shoals of others hisself, tho' at a mouthful. He's a whapper, that's a fact. I call our Minister here 'the Socdolager, for our diplomaters were never known to be hooked once yet, and actilly beat all natur' for knowin' the soundin's, smellin' the bait, givin' the dodge, or rylin' the water; so no soul can see thro' it but themselves.

He seems quite sorry about it. 'Oh, he does, does he? said Crass, with a peculiar expression. 'Don't you know who he is? 'No, replied the boy; 'but I thought p'raps he was a reporter of some paper. ''E ain't no reporter: that's old Snatchum the undertaker. 'E's smellin' round after a job; but 'e's out of it this time, smart as 'e thinks 'e is.

The tall one echoed an equally casual chorus. "They don't teach no sort of manners to them down-East hobos, neither." De Launay stared impassively at the road in front of them. "You'd think some of them'd sense it that a gent has got a right to be private when he wants to be." "It's a of a town, nohow." "People even run around smellin' of liquor which is plumb illegal, Sucatash."

He untied the string and inside there were ever so many neater and smaller packages with a picture of a flower on each one. "There's a lot o' mignonette an' poppies," he said. "Mignonette's th' sweetest smellin' thing as grows, an' it'll grow wherever you cast it, same as poppies will. Them as'll come up an' bloom if you just whistle to 'em, them's th' nicest of all."

Wadna ye tak' the rose o' Sharon itsel', nor the fire-reid lilies that made the text for the Saviour's sermon? Ow! na. Ye maun be sober, wi' flooers bonnie eneuch, but smellin' o' the kirkyard raither nor the blue lift, which same's the sapphire throne o' Him that sat thereon."

"Why don't you git something fit for a gentleman to write to a lady on? Something with gold edges on the paper and envelopes, and perfumed? I never write to a lady except on gilt-edged paper, smellin' o' bergamot, and musk, and citronella, and them things. I don't think it's good taste." "Well, think what you please," said the Sutler.

But it's when they starts restoring the old churches, and makin' 'em all spick and span, that the religious feelin' seems to die out on 'em, and folks begins to stop goin'. You might as well be in a concert hall the place full o' chairs and smellin' o' varnish enough to make you sick, and a lot o' lads in the chancel dressed up in white gowns, and suckin' sweets, and chuckin' paper pellets at one another all through the sermon.

An' the night it burnt I was settin' on the side stoop without anything over my head, just smellin' in the air, when I see a little pinky look on the sky beyond the track. It wasn't moon-time, an' they wa'n't nothin' to bonfire that time o' year, an' I set still, pretendin' it was rose-bushes makin' a ladder an' buildin' a way of escape by night.

"There'll always be a barbed wire fence," said Ajax. "Boys, when that ther' pond o' the Baron's tuk to smellin' like dead cats, he come to me and asks me to find someone to take keer o' the bungalow. I undertook the job myself. I was to water them foreign plants o' his, do odd chores, and sleep in the house nights. He offered good pay, and I got a few dollars on account.

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