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Updated: May 26, 2025
Can we teach the fish to fly or the bird to swim, or the blind mole to live above the cool sof' earth in which centuries of ancestral moles have delighted to burrow? Then no mo' can you teach a woman in whom the love of country is pa'amount to love anothah country. Only by the gentlest measuahs may you wean her from it.
Noder tam he get mad on one voyageur, but he don' keel heem queek; he bring heem here, mak' heem stay in dose warm room, feed heem dose plaintee grub. Purty soon dose voyageur is get fat, is go sof; he no good for dose trail. Ole man he mak' heem go ver' far off, mos' to Whale Reever. Eet is plaintee cole. Dat voyageur, he freeze to hees inside. Dey tell me he feex heem like dat."
We have some private conf'rence. They all turn away, all but M'sieu' Cournal, and leave the room, whispering. 'I will join you soon, Cournal, say his Excellency. M'sieu' Cournal not go, for he have been drinking, and something stubborn got into him. But the Intendant order him rough, and he go. I can hear madame gnash her teeth sof' beside me.
Does Injun is step ver' sof' an' go on bunk of Pierre Cadotte. Pierre Cadotte is mak' de beeg cry. Dick Henderson say he no see dose Injun no more, an' he fin' de door shut. Bâ Pierre Cadotte, she's go dead. He is mak' wan beeg hole in hees ches'." "Some enemy, some robber frightened away because the Henderson man woke up, probably," suggested Ned Trent.
She had eyes like the brown av a buttherfly's wing whin the sun catches ut, an' a waist no thicker than my arm, an' a little sof button av a mouth I would ha' gone through all Asia bristlin' wid bay'nits to get the kiss av.
"Ye'd better use sof' soap on 'im, Cap'n," said Oncle Jazon in English, "cussin' won't do no good." While he spoke he rubbed the doughty Captain's arm and then patted it gently. Helm, who was not half as excited as he pretended to be, knew that Oncle Jazon's remark was the very essence of wisdom; but he was not yet ready for the diplomatic language which the old trooper called "soft soap."
De ladies was beautiful wid big black eyes an' sof' white han's, but dey was high strung, too. "De marster had a town mansion what's pictured in a lot o' books. It was called 'Montebella. De big columns still stan' at de end o' Shields Lane. It burnt 'bout thirty years ago . "I's part Injun. Her pa was a full blooded Choctaw an' mighty nigh as young as she was.
Fur Gord sake, des look at dem cows! All squez up together 'g'ins' dem bars in dat sof' mud des like I knowed dey gwine be an' me late at my milkin'! You Lady! Teck yo' proud neck down f'om off dat heifer's head! Back, I tell yer! Don't tell me, Spot! Yas, I know she impose on you yas she do. Reachin' her monst'ous mouf clair over yo' po' little muley head. Move back, I say, Lady!
I seed a hack drive long by wid two gemmen a-settin' up in hit, en one un em des es well es I is, but w'en I helt Marse Dan up right high, he shake his haid en pint ter de udder like he kinder skeered. 'Dis yer's my young brudder, he sez, speakin' sof'; 'en dis yer's my young Marster, I holler back, but he shake his haid agin en drive right on.
But she begin to talk to them so sof', and to pull ver' steady, and at last she get them shaping to the shore. She have the reins wound on her hands, and people on the shore, they watch. Little on little the horses pull up, and stop at last not a hunder' feet from the great crack and the rotten ice. Then she turn them round and drive them home.
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