Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: April 30, 2025
There was Amos B. Tripp, whom Radbourn said resembled "a Chinese god" immense, featureless, bald, with a pout on his face like an enormous baby. The "watch dog of the house," Major Hendricks, was tall, thin, with the voice and manner of an old woman. His eyes were invisible, and his chin-beard wagged up and down as he shouted in high tenor his inevitable objection.
The master bade Rupert "good-night," and returned to his room as the boy descended the stairs with his burden. But here Providence, with, I fear, its occasional disregard of mere human morality, rewarded Rupert after his own foolish desires. Mrs. Tripp was at the foot of the stairs as Rupert came slowly down.
So, as for a needful and infallible cure, she set herself to arrange, writing again to Abednego Tripp, the Vale Leston clerk, whose possession of a market boat kept him conversant with Ewmouth, and who recommended rooms in the house of a former servant at the Rectory who had married a sailor.
You listen to Mr. Chalmers and go back home, and you'll be all right." But now the time was come for action, for the hands of the clock were moving close to noon. Frowning upon Tripp, I argued gently and philosophically with Miss Lowery, delicately convincing her of the importance of returning home at once.
She paused, and giving him a furtive critical glance said, with an easy mingling of confidence and audacity, "Why don't YOU go? Nobody'll hurt you." "I'm not so sure of that," replied Mr. Ford gallantly. "There's the melancholy example of Rupert always before me." Mrs. Tripp tossed her chignon and descended a step of the stairs. "You'd better go," she continued, looking up over the balusters.
A man by the name of Charlie Adams, Tripp, and myself, started out from Chicago on the Michigan Central Railroad one day, to turn a few honest dollars. We took separate cars and began looking for a game. I was in the ladies' car, and thought I saw plenty of material, but the most of it was handicapped with female riders.
"I'll give you time to draw a second breath," she told him, forcing into her tone a lightness which she did not quite feel, even though a surge of satisfaction had warmed her at the first thud of his horse's hoofs. "Then we'll talk." She switched on the lights and turned to look at Tripp. He was the same little old Doc Tripp, she noted.
The solitary climber in blue walked on for a time, with his mind filled with the kindness of his comrades, and musing upon the many jolly days they had had together in camp and field. He thought of his chum, Billy Tripp. Poor Billy! A "mime" ball fell into his breast one day, fell wailing like a cat, and tore a great ragged hole in his heart.
The passengers called him "Old Stingy," and asked him if he was not sorry he had not given something to the woman before he lost his money. It always did me a great deal of good to down a stingy man, for I knew he would soon have more, even if he had to starve himself to get it. Tripp and I were playing the trains on the Missouri Pacific Railroad at one time.
Juror No. 8, Guy E. Tripp, general manager of a small steamboat company, was uncertain. Juror No. 9, Joseph Tisdale, a retired glue manufacturer, thought Cowperwood was probably guilty as charged, but to Tisdale it was no crime. Cowperwood was entitled to do as he had done under the circumstances. Tisdale would vote for his acquittal.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking