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Updated: June 10, 2025
Father Conmee doffed his silk hat and smiled, as he took leave, at the jet beads of her mantilla inkshining in the sun. And smiled yet again, in going. He had cleaned his teeth, he knew, with arecanut paste. Father Conmee walked and, walking, smiled for he thought on Father Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and cockney voice. Pilate! Wy don't you old back that owlin mob? A zealous man, however.
"Noo a' can speak frae experience, having been terrible fortunate wi' a' ma wives. . . . Ye 'll come up tae tea; we killed a pig yesterday, and . . . Weel, weel, a wilfu' man maun hae his wy," and Carmichael, as he made his way up the hill, felt that the hand of Providence was heavy upon him, and that any highmindedness was being severely chastened.
'If your gov'nor had been a coachman, reasoned Mr. Weller, 'do you s'pose as that 'ere jury 'ud ever ha' conwicted him, s'posin' it possible as the matter could ha' gone to that extremity? They dustn't ha' done it. 'Wy not? said Sam, rather disparagingly. 'Wy not! rejoined Mr. Weller; ''cos it 'ud ha' gone agin their consciences.
Even on the seacoast in winter, where he knows Clote Scarpe cannot be for Clote Scarpe hates the sea Hukweem forgets himself, and cries occasionally out of pure loneliness. When I asked what Hukweem says when he cries for all cries of the wilderness have their interpretation Simmo answered: "Wy, he say two ting. First he say, Where are you? O where are you?
'Wy now, said Sam, looking round, 'would anybody believe as a man at his time o' life could be running his head agin spinsters and punsters being the same thing? 'There an't a straw's difference between 'em, said Mr. Weller. 'Your father didn't drive a coach for so many years, not to be ekal to his own langvidge as far as THAT goes, Sammy.
'An' when I come aht, she went on, ''oo should I see just passin' the 'orspital but this 'ere cove, an' 'e says to me, "Wot cheer," says 'e, "I'm goin' ter Vaux'all, come an' walk a bit of the wy with us." "Arright," says I, "I don't mind if I do." One man winked, and another said: 'Go it, Liza! She fired up with the dignity of outraged innocence.
"It cam tae me sudden ae Sacrament Monday, hoo dis he aye turn up twal texts, naither mair nor less, and that set me thinkin'. Then a' noticed that he left the Bible open at the place till anither text was due, an' I wunnered a'd been sae slow. It wes this wy: he askit the beadle for a gless o' water in the vestry, and slippit his sermon in atween the leaves in sae mony bits.
"No; crumpets," says the doctor. "Wy?" says the patient, starting up in bed; "I've eat four crumpets, ev'ry night for fifteen year, on principle." "Well, then, you'd better leave 'em off, on principle," says the doctor. "Crumpets is NOT wholesome, Sir," says the doctor, wery fierce. "But they're so cheap," says the patient, comin' down a little, "and so wery fillin' at the price."
'Wy, in support of his great principle that crumpets wos wholesome, and to show that he wouldn't be put out of his way for nobody! With such like shiftings and changings of the discourse, did Mr. Weller meet his master's questioning on the night of his taking up his residence in the Fleet. Finding all gentle remonstrance useless, Mr.
"Well, my invice is dis," said Uncle Bob, "fur ter go ter yer pa, an' tell him de truff; state all de konkumstances des like dey happen; don't lebe out none er de facks; tell him you're sorry yer 'haved so onstreperous, an' ax him fur ter furgib yer; an' ef he do, wy dat's all right; an' den ef he don't, wy yer mus' 'bide by de kinsequonces.
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