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Updated: May 17, 2025
Bay. Beg pardon. Excuse my bluff soldierly ways; but nevertheless take your nose out of my hay-net, please. A Canadian dun. Gee! quit weavin' about like that, Tubby. Can't you let a guy get some sleep. I'll hand you a cold rebuff in the ribs in a minute. Wazzer matter with you, anyhow? Tubby. Had a bad dream. Black. Don't wonder, the way you over-eat yourself. Bay.
When he comes weavin' into Wolfville that time, I reckons now Colonel Sterett is mighty likely about twenty-odd years younger than me, an' at that time I shows about fifty rings on my horns. As for eddication, he's shore a even break with Doc Peets, an' as I remarks frequent, I never calls the hand of that gent in Arizona who for a lib'ral enlightenment is bullsnakes to rattlesnakes with Peets.
"She's gettin' along right nice, I think," replied the widow, looking proudly at her one chick. "You see, she's a lot o' darnin' an' one thing another to do, but she finds time for her landskips and things." "Well, mebbe so," assented Hezekiah grudgingly. "For my part there's nothing set's a gal off like spinnin' an' weavin', an' it puts more money in her pocket, besides." "La, Mr.
Fitzgerald, Captain Pelham does not wish to be left in such 'a weavin' way. He says that song is like an April shower on a bag of powder. The inference is that it will make the horse artillery chicken-hearted. I move that you give John Pelham and the assemblage 'Scots wha hae wi Wallace bled' " The singing ended, there was a wider movement through the room.
The women and the men, too, was gittin' ready for the fair all the year round, the women piecin' quilts and knittin' socks and weavin' carpets and puttin' up preserves and pickles, and the men raisin' fine stock; and when the fair come, it was worth goin' to, child, and worth rememberin' after you'd gone to it.
I looked over into the gardens down b'low the town, 'n' see men plantin' corn, 'n' tendin' peach trees, but didn't see no women at it. The women was all in the houses, spinnin', weavin', sewin', 'n' fixin' up ginerally." "Remarkable people!" exclaimed Aunt Maria. "They are at least as civilized as we. Very probably more so. Of course they are.
Sinner y' are, and so are we all, God save us! say I; and weavin' the stripes for our backs He may be, and little I'd think of Him failin' in that: but Pagan faith, it's black should be the white of the eyes of that preachin' sneak, and a rattle of teeth in his throat divils go round me!" The half-breed, still musing, replied: "An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth is that it, Shon?"
"Them coverlids I wove myself, fifty-five years ago come next spring," said Mrs. Green, firmly. "Sally Ann Mason an' me used to set up till the clock struck twelve that year, spinnin' an' weavin'. Then we had a cup or two o' green tea, an' went to bed." "Well, you wove 'em, an' you don't want to sell 'em," said Aunt Melissa, her eyes on her work.
Robert at right center, studyin' the documents in the case; Piddie standin' respectful at his side weavin' his fingers in and out nervous; and me balanced on the edge of the desk at the left, one shoe toe on the floor, the other foot wavin' easy and graceful. Cool and calm, that's me. But not sayin' a word. Nobody was. We'd had our turn. It was up to Old Hickory to give the final decision.
Jeff, he's a master hand to thet kind o' work, though yer mightn't think it; 'n I kin airn right smart at weavin'; jest give me a good carpet-loom, 'n I won't be beholden to nobody for vittles. I jest du love weavin'. I donno how I've contented myself this hull year, or nigh about a year, without a loom.
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