Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 2, 2025
This was all said by Pompey in a manner which showed that he knew what he was about. "How old is you?" asked Pompey of a tall, strong-looking man. "What's your name?" "I am twenty-nine years old, and my name is Tobias, but they calls me Toby." "Well, Toby, or Mr. Tobias, if dat will suit you better, you are now twenty-three years old; dat's all, do you understand dat?" "Yes," replied Toby.
She was tall and strong-looking, and somewhat portly, and quite masterful in her ways as a general rule; but that night she seemed to be in a sort of pleading mood, not a bit like herself when dealing with ordinary people. She was not ordinary, as could be sensed by even an ignorant bumpkin like me.
He sat down beside him, and told him how glad he was to see his family looking so well, especially Miss Ellen; he could not remember ever seeing her so strong-looking. He said that girl had captured his mother, who was in love with pretty much the whole Kenton family, though. "And by-the-way," he added, "I want to thank you and Mrs. Kenton, judge, for the way you received my mother.
He now lost all spirit, and thought that his end was coming. He told us that we were still nearly two hundred miles from land to the south-west of us, and described the stars we should steer by. The next day he died, and two other strong-looking men died within two days of him. The rest of them thought that they should never reach land. I said at last, "Let us trust in God.
Widow Kirstine was a portly, somewhat worn perhaps, but otherwise strong-looking, old woman, with a good broad face, and thin grey hair drawn down behind her ears. She was not unused to being disturbed at night, one of her occupations being to nurse sick people; but she always grumbled whenever she was.
Besides, this "smiting" is a most disgusting process to witness. In warm weather the butter adheres to the hands of the "smiter," who puffs and blows over it as if it were very hard work. Indeed, I once heard a strong-looking girl; daughter of a small farmer in Kent, say she was never well, for "smiting" the butter was such dreadful hard work it gave her a pain in her side.
This was all said by Pompey in a manner which showed that he know what he was about. "How old is you?" asked Pompey of a tall, strong-looking man. "What's your name?" "I am twenty-nine years old, and my name is Tobias, but they calls me Toby." "Well, Toby, or Mr. Tobias, if dat will suit you better, you are now twenty-three years old; dat's all, do you understand dat?" "Yes," replied Toby.
He was big and strong-looking enough to suggest that he was not a boy it would be easy to dispose of, but it was not that which made the group stand still a moment to stare at him. It was something in himself half of it a kind of impartial lack of anything like irritation at the stone-throwing. It was as if it had not mattered to him in the least. It had not made him feel angry or insulted.
For the next ten minutes, the sky presented a picture of five winged women, stationed at various points of the compass, ecstatically studying their own beautiful faces in mirrors held in their white, strong-looking hands. Then, flying together again, they discovered that the mirrors reflected. At first, this created panic, then amusement. Ensued a delicious girl-frolic.
God doesn't take away young, young girls like our Betty. God couldn't be so cruel." "We won't call it cruelty," said Mrs. Miles; "but God does do it, all the same, for His own wise purposes, no doubt. We'll not talk o' that, my lambs; we'll let that pass by. The thing is for you to tell me what has gone wrong with that bonny, strong-looking girl.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking