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Updated: May 31, 2025
On turning my head round to escape these cataracts, and to draw breath, a tar-brush was rammed half-way down my throat! Far different was the scene, and very different, of course, my deportment, four or five years afterwards on the same spot, when, instead of being the junior lieutenant, I was the great gun of all, the mighty master-nob of the whole party, that is to say, the captain himself.
"Yours is a nice plain tale for a small tea-party; a quiet little bit of still-life, that is." "What a queer, horrible story," exclaimed Barbara. "It makes one feel like a cannibal." "Ex Africa," said the lawyer, smiling. "It comes from a cannibal country. I think it's the touch of the tar-brush, that nightmare feeling that you don't know whether the hero is a plant or a man or a devil.
The North is for freedom of discussion, the South represses freedom of discussion with the tar-brush and the pine fagot. Yet the North and South are both democracies nay, possess almost exactly similar institutions, with this enormous divergence in theory and practice. It is not democracy that has made the North the advocate of freedom, or the South the advocate of slavery.
Well, she has; and I have mine terribly expensive." "H'm!" said Soames. "What does that chap Profond do in England?" Annette raised the eyebrows she had just finished. "He yachts." "Ah!" said Soames; "he's a sleepy chap." "Sometimes," answered Annette, and her face had a sort of quiet enjoyment. "But sometimes very amusing." "He's got a touch of the tar-brush about him."
"Ah!" said Soames; "he's a sleepy chap." "Sometimes," answered Annette, and her face had a sort of quiet enjoyment. "But sometimes very amusing." "He's got a touch of the tar-brush about him." Annette stretched herself. "Tar-brush?" she said; "what is that? His mother was Armenienne." "That's it, then," muttered Soames. "Does he know anything about pictures?"
Yes, sir, that gal had two twins a boy an' a girl an' both that white, when I see them as yearlings, you'd never suspect they had a dab o' the tar-brush in 'em at all. The boy had red hair provin' he was yourn, Gib." Mr. Gibney could stand no more. He sat down on the hatch coaming and covered his face with his hard red hands. "If there was kids, Scraggsy," he sobbed, "I didn't know it.
The odds are she'll be Eurasian, and those snuff-and-butter colored ladies, when they get amongst people blacker than themselves, always try to ignore their own lick of the tar-brush." "Fat, is she?" "The serang said she-was a big buffalo bull of a woman, with a terror of a temper. I don't know what's Mr.
He never even heard us talk about his lineage, deplore the length of his nose, or call him "clever-looking." We should have been ashamed to let him smell about us the tar-brush of a sense of property, to let him think we looked on him as an asset to earn us pelf or glory.
One day, during this summer, the groom cleaned and dressed me with such extraordinary care that I thought some new change must be at hand; he trimmed my fetlocks and legs, passed the tar-brush over my hoofs, and even parted my forelock. I think the harness had an extra polish. Willie seemed half-anxious, half-merry, as he got into the chaise with his grandfather.
One had a tar-brush jammed into his mouth, another a towel stuffed down his throat; and my mate they had almost beaten to death because he had ventured to show fight." "Which way did the polacre stand after she left you?" asked Captain Lascelles. "To the eastward, sir." "You would know her again?" "That I should, among a hundred like craft." "Can you come with us?"
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