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When you got to the table you couldn't go right to eating, but you had to wait for the widow to tuck down her head and grumble a little over the victuals, though there warn't really anything the matter with them, that is, nothing only everything was cooked by itself. In a barrel of odds and ends it is different; things get mixed up, and the juice kind of swaps around, and the things go better.
When you got to the table you couldn't go right to eating, but you had to wait for the widow to tuck down her head and grumble a little over the victuals, though there warn't really anything the matter with them, that is, nothing only everything was cooked by itself. In a barrel of odds and ends it is different; things get mixed up, and the juice kind of swaps around, and the things go better.
"Now he'll save that for his breakfast," remarked another refugee. "There's nothing he hates like waste." "Talking about squirrels," exclaimed the man at my side, "I believe he has a pasture for old, broke-down horses somewhere east in the hills. All the bates he can find he swaps young trees for, and they go off with him leading them, but he never comes into the settlements on horseback."
"Epictetus," says Waldo, breakin' it to me as gentle as he can, "was a Greek philosopher. We are reading his 'Discourses." "Oh!" says I. "Not so close, was I? Now, what was his line of dope something like the Dooley stuff?" Waldo and Tidman swaps grins, sort of sly and sheepish, like they wasn't used to indulgin' in such frivolity.
The engineer humps his eyebrows sarcastic, while Ballinger and the lawyer swaps a quiet smile. "Then perhaps we had best stay over and take the deeds back with us," says Ballinger. "Do," snaps Old Hickory. "You can improve the time hunting for your average New Yorker. Here you are, Torchy." Say, he's a game old sport, Mr. Ellins.
I've seen swaps where both sides got took in. Did ever I tell you the story of the "Elder and the grave-digger?" "Never," I replied; "but here we are at our lodgings. Come in, and tell it to me." "Well," said he, "I must have a glass of mint julip fust, to wash down that ere disappointment about the mare. It was a dreadful go that. I jist lost a thousand dollars by it, as slick as grease.
I've seen swaps where both sides got took in. Did ever I tell you the story of the "Elder and the grave-digger?" "Never," I replied; "but here we are at our lodgings. Come in, and tell it to me." "Well," said he, "I must have a glass of mint julip fust, to wash down that ere disappointment about the mare. It was a dreadful go that. I jist lost a thousand dollars by it, as slick as grease.
They say that he rides nearly every day, over the corduroy roads and through the swamps, and wherever the boys see that tall hat they cheer. They know it as well as the lookout tower on the flats of Bermuda Hundred. He lingers at the campfires and swaps stories with the officers, and entertains the sick and wounded in the hospitals. Isn't it like him? He hasn't changed, either.
The supreme lèse majesté of the married woman who wears her state of wedlock like a crown of blessed thorns; bleeds ecstatically and swaps afternoon-long intimacies, made nasty by the plush in her voice, with her sisters of the matrimonial dynasty. Mrs. Jett was also bidden, by her divine right, to those conclaves of the wives, and faithfully she attended, but on the rim, as it were.
For some reason they seem of late to be out later and later of evenings. Paw has found a crony here and there about the camps, and swaps reminiscences of this sort or that. Sometimes I find Maw alone, sitting on the log, gazing into her little camp fire. Once, I recall, one of the girls was at home. "Roweny!" called out Maw suddenly. "Roweny, where are you? Come and talk to the gentleman."
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