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"Reading on the counter still's going up, Astro," warned Roger. "Fifteen-O-five." "Hurry it up, Astro," urged Tom. "Hand me that wrench, Tom," ordered Astro. The big cadet, stripped to the waist, his thick arms and chest splattered with grease and sweat, fitted the wrench to the nut and applied pressure.
Sandy got doon to the lobby a' richt; an' a'thing was dark, an' as still's the grave. He scrammilt aboot till he got the bag; syne he fand for his lum hat, an' put it on his heid. He got his umberell in his oxter, an' the bag in his hand, an' then he fand roond juist to see if there was naething else he had forgotten.
Higginson, himself a dyspeptic, "continually in physic," as he says, and accustomed to dress in thick clothing, and to comfort his stomach with drink that was "both strong and stale," the "jolly good ale and old," I suppose, of free and easy Bishop Still's song, found that he both could and did oftentimes drink New England water very well, which he seems to look upon as a remarkable feat.
You know he didn't like changes." "Blue spread on the west room bed?" "Yes." "Spinnin'-wheels out in the shed chamber, where his gran'mother Hooper kep' 'em?" "Yes." "Say, 'Melia, do you s'pose that little still's up attic he used to have such a royal good time with, makin' essences?" Amelia's eyes filled suddenly with hot, unmanageable tears. "Yes," she said; "we used it only two summers ago.
Brown, though uneducated, it is needless to say, was imbued with the spirit of liberty, and with much natural ability, with his box he traveled and spoke of his experience in slavery, the novelty of his escape adding interest to his description. Many similar cases of heroism in manner of escape of men and women are recorded in William Still's "Underground Railroad."
The small boy heaved a sigh of ecstasy at his unobstructed view. "It's Still Jim Manning. His father just got killed. He's boss of our gang." "But he's not the biggest," said the stranger. "Naw, he ain't the biggest, but he can make the fellows mind. He don't talk much but what he says goes." "Can he lick the big fellow?" "Who? Fatty Allen? Bet your life! Still's built like steel wire."
"Bet you we score twice as much as they do, Tracey." "Bet you we don't! Bet you the sodas for the crowd!" "Got you," answered Marvin, pulling Still's pillow further under his head where he lay sprawled on the bed. "Get your mouths fixed, fellows. Mr. Black's treat!" "What do you think, Jack?" asked Edwards. "Shucks, I don't know anything about it. And I don't see that it matters.
Higginson, himself a dyspeptic, "continually in physic," as he says, and accustomed to dress in thick clothing, and to comfort his stomach with drink that was "both strong and stale," the "jolly good ale and old," I suppose, of free and easy Bishop Still's song, found that he both could and did oftentimes drink New England water very well, which he seems to look upon as a remarkable feat.
This in time, gave him a recurrent premonition of cramps, gastritis, smoker's colic or whatever it is they have in Pittsburg after a too deep indulgence in graft scandals. To fend off the colic, Ross resorted time and again to Old Doctor Still's Amber-Colored U. S. A. Colic Cure. Result, after forty-eight hours nerves. "Positive fact I never knew Mark Twain to make me tired before. Positive fact."
Mrs. Todd was no longer young, and in spite of her strong, great frame and spirited behavior, I knew that certain ills were apt to seize upon her, and would end some day by leaving her lame and ailing. "Don't you go to worryin' about me," she insisted, "settin' still's the only way the Evil One 'll ever get the upper hand o' me.
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