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Updated: June 9, 2025
Rise, my son, an' eat, as the wise king recommended, sayin', 'Stay me wi' flagons, comfort me wi' yapples, for I be sick o' love. A wise word that." "Shall a man be poured out like water," inquired Uncle Issy, "an' turn from his vittles, an' pass his prime i' blowin' his nose, an' all for a woman?" "I wasn' blowin' my nose," objected Zeb, shortly.
"'Pears to me you must be failin' if you disremembers 'en: son of old Sal Trudgeon, that used to keep the jumble-shop 'cross the water: him that stole our eggs back-along, when father was livin'." "I remember." "I thought you must. Why, you gave evidence, to be sure. Be dashed! now I come to mind, if you wasn' the first to wake the house an' say you heard a man hollerin' out down 'pon the mud."
In the end I fetched the keys, and he unlocked the safe. There was a good few papers in it, which he overhauled. But there wasn' no parcel 'pon the top shelf where I'd seen it last." "Then you may depend he'd given it to 'Bias unbeknown to you, same as he handed mine over to me. Wasn' that Benny's opinion?" "Oh, you make me tired!" exclaimed the wise child frankly.
"But Mistah," said the bolder of the two negroes, "how kin we 'fess, when we wasn' nowhahs nigh de place?" "Now there you go with regular nigger stubbornness; didn't I tell you that that was the only way out of this?
"I'm no better'n dirt, I suppose, though from the start she wasn' above robbin' me. Aw, she's sly ... Mr. Raymond, I'll curse her as she comes out, see if I don't!" "And I swear you shall not," said Taffy. The scent of Honoria's orange-blossom seemed to cling about them as they stood. Lizzie looked at him vindictively. "You wanted her yourself, I know. You weren't good enough, neither.
I turned around in my saddle to ask if it wasn t about time for me to have a smoke out of my own pipe, and as I looked up the road we had come over I saw a large body of our own cavalry, coming like the wind toward us. I said nothing, but my face gave me away.
As I was tellin' him, when I heard your tap here at the window " "But I don't and I wasn' tappin' for you, either." "Appears not," said Mr Philp, with a glance at the empty glass in Cai's hand. "Where is he? Still in the garden, d'ye say?" "Ay: somewheres down by the summer-house.
It will give me pleasure," said von Rittenheim, politely, with vague notions of birds floating through his brain. "Did he Bud br-ring no message for me yesterday in the afternoon?" "No. He said the Doctor 'lowed he'd 'tend to hit what yo' letter was about when the mud dried, 'n Bud reckoned that wasn' no message, 'n hit wasn' no use goin' over to tell you jus' that."
Twenty-five dolla' de mont'? Docta Keene, no gen'leman h-ought to git married if 'e 'ave not anny'ow fifty dolla' de mont'! If I wasn' a h-artiz I wouldn' git married; I gie you my word!" "Yes," said the little doctor, "you are right. Now tell me the news." "Well, dat Cong-ress gone an' make " "Raoul, stop.
On the way down I stopped at the Westbury home and reported my visitor. Mrs. Westbury, a handsome, spirited woman, laughed. "That was old Nat, who lives just back of you. He's a good old body, but queer." "I'm glad he's a body," I said. "I wasn t sure." Our debt to William C. Westbury
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