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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Oh, my God! my God!" said the old man, in a voice which had a deeper tone of feeling than mere sympathy with others' sorrow was likely to have produced. There was evidently something behind all these inquiries of his. I longed to ask him if his name, too, was not Porter. "Aw yow knawn Billy Porter? What was a like? Tell me, now what was a like, in the Lord's name! what was a like unto?"
Jump in, Mr Marston. Who's going to pole?" "Nay, I'll pole," said Dave. "If yow mean to go we may as well get theer i' good time; but I don't think it's worth the trouble." "Get out! It's rare good fun, Mr Marston; sometimes we get lots of fish."
Ogleton, too, had a pet a favorite pug whose squab figure, black muzzle, and tortuosity of tail, that curled like a head of celery in a salad-bowl, bespoke his Dutch extraction. Yow! yow! yow! continued the brute a chorus in which Flo instantly joined. Sooth to say, pug had more reason to express his dissatisfaction than was given him by the muse of Simpkinson; the other only barked for company.
This I did to try her, for it is written: 'Trust not the incapable. Coming up the gorge alone in the falling of the light, I heard the voice of a man singing at the door of my house; and it was the voice of Daoud Shah, and the song that he sang was 'Dray wara yow dee' 'All three are one. It was as though a heelrope had been slipped round my heart and all the Devils were drawing it tight past endurance.
“Come on board,” invited Curtis, stepping down to the deck of the craft. “Let me show you what a comfortable cruising cabin I have.” “Hi, oh, yow!” yawned Hal, again. “Jack, I think I shall enjoy my rest to-night.” “Same case here,” agreed Benson, stifling a yawn that came as though in answer to Hal’s.
"Yow, an opera singer in the old country!" Abe exclaimed skeptically. "In Russland they don't got so many opera singers as all that." "What d'ye mean, in Russland?" Morris demanded. "The woman ain't from Russland at all. She's an Italiener.
“I’m—hah-ho-hum!” yawned Hal Hastings. “I’m afraid I’d—yow!—abuse your hospitality by going to sleep.” Jack Benson leaned against the edge of the opposite berth, feeling unaccountably drowsy. “Oh, nonsense,” laughed Curtis. “Just pile into that berth for a moment, Hastings, and see what a soft, restful place it is. I’ll agree to pull you out, if necessary.”
"Where's the sense of biding here," said he, "to be burned to deeth wi' drought? Let's flood the mine, and drink or be drooned." "How can I flood the mine?" said Hope. "Yow know best, maister," said the man. "Why, how many tons of water did ye draw from yon tank every day?" "We conduct about five tons into a pit, and we send about five tons up to the surface daily."
Whatever she thought, her words were clear and free from trepidation, and John Costrell repeated them after her, making them the equivalent of printed instructions. "If yow are ba-adly wanted, Granny, I'm to coom for ye with ne'er a minute's loss o' time. That wull I. And for what I be to tell the missus, I bean't to say owt." No that would not do!
Hickathrift shook his head; Mrs Hickathrift screwed up her lips, shut her eyes, and shuddered; and the former doubled up his hard fist and shook it in the air, as if he were going to hit nothing, as he gave out his opinion this being also the opinion of all the labouring people near. "Ay, yow may laugh, Mester Dick, but they'll nivver find out nowt.
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