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And the same Spaniard trading in the Citye of Canton within the kingdome of China, hauing layd his storehouse of aboundance in Manellia a Citye by him erected in Luzon one of the Illes of Philippa bordring vpon the cost of China, doth by his common and ordenarie passages to Iapan and other the borders of the coast, knowe that the Est continent of Asia lieth due North and South so high as the promontory Tabin, wher the Scithian sea and his maine occian of China are conioyned.
He turned and surveyed the hill and the wonderful green country surrounding them. "Get a look around," he went on, with a comprehensive gesture. "This rock it's just rock, natural rock; it's rock you'll find most anywhere. It's got dumped down right here wher' most things are green, an' dandy, an' beautiful to the eye; so it looks queer, an' sets your thoughts gropin' among the cobwebs of mystery.
You guess you got me squealin' around like a suckin' kid. You! An' I took you out o' jail, wher' they was goin' to set you swingin'. Gee! I could tell you a heap, but I ain't no time talkin' to bastards of your kidney. Swingin's too good fer sech as you. Anyway, when I got work to do I do it myself. Here, you, Ned, an' you, Sully, stand aside!" She saw the two men withdraw.
Leland speaks of "a wyld moor, called Gunhilly, wher ys brood of catyle"; perhaps the cattle were the once-famous Goonhilly nags referred to by Norden.
When we fust come here he was gittin' down with his last sickness, and we left a good place in Bartholomew county, fer his folks they kep' a-writin', 'Here's the place, Billy: this is wher' you'll find the flitter tree and the honey pond. And it wasn't never my will, but come we must; and you orto seen Fairfield then. Why, ther' wasn't nothin' but mud, so ther' wasn't.
"Sure sign of a drunkard," he returned wisely, in a similar undertone. O'Brien smiled. He was about to give vent to one of his coldest cynicisms, when Nick Devereux looked over from the card table and claimed him. "Say, Dirty," he drawled, in his rather musical southern accent, "wher' in hell is Fyles located anyhow? There's been a mighty piece of big talk goin' on, but none of us ain't seen him.
"Wal, bein' on'y human, I got riled, but, not wishin' to raise a racket, I spat my chew out. I don't know how it come, but, I guess, bein' riled, I jest didn't take notice wher' I dumped it, till, kind o' sudden-like, I found I wus inspectin' the vitals o' that side-show-freak's gun.
"In Californy," said our passenger, "the glorious works o' the Lord air revealed. There's the Bishop: he looks fine to-night. Ye kin see the peak, but the sea fog's crawlin' in, an' shets off the main body o' the mountain. That's wher the fogs air always thickest. An' that's wher I lost my way, Mr. Ajax.
An' she wus kind o' finnicky wi' her own feedin', too. Guess some wall-eyed cuss had took her into Sacramento an' give her a feed at one of them Dago joints, wher' they disguise most everythin' wi' langwidge, an' ile, an' garlic, till you hate yourself. Wal, she died. Mebbe she's got all them things handy now. But I ain't sayin' nothin' mean about her; she jest had her notions.
Guess you ain't never heerd tell o' the 'rest cure'?" A rough laugh broke on the drowsy atmosphere. "Sunny's overworked just now," said another voice, amidst the rattle of poker chips. "Wher' you bin workin', Sunny?" inquired the harsh voice of the man addressed as Bill. "Workin'!" cried the loafer, with good-natured scorn. "Say, I don't never let a hobby interfere with the bizness of life."
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