Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 25, 2025
He prayed that they might have resignation, and that comfort might come to their hearts in the recovery of their little boy. Grief brooded not over that altar alone. It sat upon every face; it occupied every home; it assailed every heart in the settlement. Tilly Troffater even seemed to share somewhat of the general sorrow, though seldom shedding a sympathetic tear.
Troffater wanted to tell what his father did in the Revolution, but he had not courage to speak; and perhaps if he had, some one would have hinted the current tradition, that his father was a cowboy, and stole cattle from the Americans, and drove and sold them to the British, and then stole them from the British and drove them back again.
"He's worth a long hunt," said Colwell, "and my farm won't suffer if I search a month." "I did not see how I could leave my work," said Wilson; "but I must give one hunt for Clinton; I must." "We mustn't give him up yet. O, we can't give him up," added Uncle Walter; "we couldn't spare a soul from the settlement; we couldn't spare the leastest of your little brats, Troffater!
I'm afraid it'll give me a sweat to beat 'im arter all. Out with it, Tilly." "O, go long! go long!" said Troffater. "I hope you'll lick the rascal. He's guilty's a dog. But don't ax me, now, what I know! I wouldn't go afore Fabens for a fat turkey, I wouldn't. And then agin, why should I want to hurt Sculpin, or lay a straw in his way?
Troffater had looked to his traps, and spent the rest of the day fishing on the lake. Most of the women had been drying apples and coloring flannel. Fanny Fabens and Nancy Nimblet sang the 'Silver Moon; and all confessed it was never sung better.
"How you talk! Curse! what do you mean?" asked Fabens, with emotion, and a searching glance of his large and loving eye: "George Ludlow under a curse?" "Yis, under a cuss, an' may it please your honor," said Troffater. "Who pronounced it?" asked Fabens. "Scriptur!" said Troffater, drawing down his monkey brows over his little, black-and-blue eyes, and looking wise as a magistrate.
The business of the court then proceeded, and when his evidence was taken, Tilly Troffater mounted the stand, with an affected hesitancy, and a genuine restlessness of his little earthen eyes; eager to indulge his meddlesome humor, anxious for revenge upon, he little cared whom, and yet awed to a look of shuffling shame, by the commanding mien of the justice.
Tilly Troffater had bitterly repented the crime of the boy's abduction, to which he was accessary, and he received not a moment's respite from the tortures of hell, that tore his anguished heart, till he heard where Clinton remained; went, and informed him of his parents, and home, and directed his steps to that door.
He come from the Hudson." "I never knew him till he came here," said Fabens. "But, you've got a clean conscience," said Troffater. "If I had that, I wouldn't lay wake o' nights, nor grow hatchet-faced a great 'eal. I see your cheeks don't fall in, and nobuddy would spose by your looks that you had a great grist o' trouble.
"Why can you not be serious once in a while? You are getting to be an old man, and such levity shocks one's reverence for your gray hairs. But if that is all you know, I am sure you never spoke ill of the young man." "Not I, Fabens, not I," said Troffater, sobering down at this mild rebuke. "He's a likely feller. He'll dew wal enough, I'll warrant.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking