Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 14, 2025
"He wouldn't, Gwenda." "Ay, thot I would. An' 'e knows it, doos Johnny, t' yoong rascal." Gwenda kissed the four children; Jimmy, and Gwendolen Alice, and little Steven and the baby John. They lifted little sticky faces and wiped them on Gwenda's face, and the happy din went on. Ally didn't seem to mind it. She had grown plump and pink and rather like Mary without her subtlety.
The yoong gentleman hasting ouer into England, and with diligent inquirie perceiuing how they were bent, returned with like spéed as he came into Normandie againe, declaring to his father, that all things were in safetie if he would make hast.
He declareth also a little after, that this Maglocune in his yoong yéeres slue in battell his vncle being king, with the most valiant souldiers in maner that he had.
Orendorf was unable to adjust her mental view to the varying argument; she cast a sullen and puzzled eye on the amiable Irish woman, and said, grimly: "It isn't joost yoong mans vot kan spend money. Freda don't have got no yoong mans, 'cause her Schatz vent to der var und die py der fever in Florida " "Sure he did that!" cried Mrs. O'Brien, "an' 'twas a fine man an' a fine carpenter he was.
This yoong man, Muster Wharton, as is goin' round so free, promisin' yer the sun out o' the sky, iv yer'll only vote for 'im, so th' men say ee don't coom an' set down along o' you an' me, an' cocker of us up as ee do Joe Simmons or Jim Hurd here. But that don't matter. Yur thinkin's yur own, anyway." But she nudged him in vain.
Barlow, the shouter, had lighted on an overlooked letter for him, and had preferred this method of delivery. "They're asking for ye ba'ack at t' hoose ba'ack to Costrell's Varm.... Noa, noa, doctor 'tis the old Granny, not the yoong wench. She's gone off in a sowart of fayunt." Dr. Nash turned his pony's head without a word, nodded and started. Mr.
It's no life fer yoong things oop there, long o' t' Vicar. Mind yo" Mrs. Gale lowered her voice and looked up and down the street for possible eavesdroppers "ef 'e was to 'ear on it, thot yoong Rawcliffe wouldn't be 'lowed t' putt 's nawse in at door agen. But theer there's nawbody'd be thot crool an' spittiful fer to goa an' tall 'im. Our Assy wouldn't.
He was a frien' fowk said, o' the yoong Markis o' Lossie, an' that was hoo 'he cam to sicht. He gaed fleein' aboot, luikin' at this, an' luikin' at that; an' whaur or hoo he fell in wi' HIM, I dinna ken, but or lang the twa o' them was a heap thegither.
He has a story of a bogle in this road a horse-bogle, too that makes one creep." "Oh! I know that story," said Helbeck. "It used to be told of several roads about here. Old Wilson once said to me, 'When Aa wor yoong, ivery field an ivery lane wor fu o' bogles! It is strange how the old tales have died out, while a brand new one, like our own ghost story, has grown up." Laura murmured a "Yes."
The fac is, that the man was ance a minister o' the Kirk o' Scotlan'; but whan he was a yoong man, he fell intil a great faut: a yoong man's faut I'm no gaein to excuse 't dinna think it!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking