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Updated: May 27, 2025
You sall haf every want, you sall enjoy every wis, you sall be happy." "But I don't see how I can be happy without a chair," reiterated Minnie, in whose mind this one grievance now became pre-eminent. "You talk as though you think I am made of stone or iron, and you think I can stand here all day or all night, and you want me to sleep on that horrid straw and those horrid furry things.
Our guide there fidgeted about as if he had swallowed a spring mattress. He was full of animation full of impatience. He said: "Come wis me, genteelmen! come! I show you ze letter writing by Christopher Colombo! write it himself! write it wis his own hand! come!" He took us to the municipal palace.
"Well, he has seen me!" said the little Princess impatiently. "I love not lads. They are fit for nought better than playing quoits. Let them go and do it." "What, Dickon?" said Margaret, smiling. "Oh, Dickon!" returned Constance in a changed tone. "But Tom is not Dickon. Neither is he an angel, I wis, for I heard him gainsay once his preceptor."
I wish I wis within half a mile o' him this meenit, and I'd tell him what I thocht o' him, instead o' you! It's three months rent yer fine Harry Lauder has costit me! Had he na been here in Kirrie last nicht de ye think I'd ever ha' left the rent box by its lane wi' a man like our Jock in the hoose?" You may be sure I did not turn to let the good Kirsty see my face.
"Hast thou prayed ever for me, good wife?" asked Lord Marnell. "Many times, my good Lord, and I will do so till I die." "The Church teacheth that dying stoppeth not praying," said he. "I wis well that the Church so teacheth; but I saw it not in the book; however, if I find it to be so, I will pray God for thee there also."
The teamster demurred, but Shorty was obdurate, and began preparations to put his intention into operation, when the Orderly-Sergeant came down through the company street distributing mail. "Shorty," he said, entirely ignoring the bellicosity of the scene, "here's a letter for you." Shorty's first thought was to look at the postmark. Sure enough, it was Bad Ax, Wis.
Sometimes when I have been standing before some cherished old idol of mine that I remembered years and years ago in pictures in the geography at school, I have thought I would give a whole world if the human parrot at my side would suddenly perish where he stood and leave me to gaze, and ponder, and worship. No, we did not "wis zo haut can be."
He and I were in Opelika together for about a half day. He was on his way to Beloit, Wis., his home, and I was on my way home to Oakbowery. About thirty minutes before it was time for my train to leave, I noticed a man who was very busy superintending the hauling of some lumber. This man asked my name, what I could do, and where I was from. For a moment I hesitated to tell him, but finally did.
The question raised by the prisoner's counsel was ruled in favor of his contention in Biemel v. State. 71 Wis. 444, decided in 1888. The day was very warm, and the jury sat without their coats. The audience, who had had time to debate and argue the question over and over, were all there ready to throng in at the opening of the doors, and sat listening, eager, anxious, and perspiring.
'I wis that may be true, laddie. But I carena hoo ye put it, returned his grandmother, bewildered no doubt with this outburst, 'sae be that ye put him first an' last an' i' the mids' o' a' thing, an' say wi' a' yer hert, "His will be dune!" 'Wi' a' my hert, "His will be dune," grannie, responded Robert. 'Amen, amen.
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