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Updated: June 22, 2025
When he was taken prisoner, he'd been wounded in the head and slightly gassed. The gassing doesn't matter, except that he will always have to take care of his lungs; the head wound has left a scar and a bald place, but he can cover that up. At present he gets the most awful head-aches if he tries to do any work.
Some of his words were not Sunday-school words, so I am obliged to put blanks where they occur. "Yes indeedy! If I ain't an American there AIN'T any Americans, that's all. And when I heard you fellows gassing away in the good old American language, I'm if it wasn't all I could do to keep from hugging you!
Some of his words were not Sunday-school words, so I am obliged to put blanks where they occur. "Yes indeedy! If I ain't an American there AIN'T any Americans, that's all. And when I heard you fellows gassing away in the good old American language, I'm if it wasn't all I could do to keep from hugging you!
"I haven't much sympathy with a good deal of the stuff artists talk," he continued, following his own train of thought. "It doesn't square very well with common sense and ain't much more than pure gassing, I think. The truth is, genius is mostly moonshine. The man I call a genius is the one that makes things work practically."
It doesn't leave much time for grousing when we simply can't help moving on." She squeezed his hand. "I wonder where I'd be without you, Nick." Nick's grin flashed magically across his face. "I'm only a man, kiddie," he observed, "and I seem to have been gassing somewhat immoderately. However, them's my sentiments, and you can take 'em or leave 'em according to fancy."
"Well," he said, "I suppose you can't always be gassing if you're not feeling on the spot. Let's start the sale before any more people leave. Come on." Mr. Waddington led the way to the rostrum. Burton, with a sinking heart, and a premonition of evil, took the place by his side. The first few lots were put up and sold without event, but trouble came with lot number 13.
I thought I'd rather be Gallagher than Red Red had to serve time once in a while. Soon as he got out I went down to Gallagher's saloon, and there was Red leaning over the bar. 'Here's a smart kid! he says, 'He and me were room-mates over in Hickory Street. He got to gassing me, and telling me I'd better come along with him, when Gallagher came in. 'What is it ye'd like to be, my son? says he.
Then you shut your teeth and go in again, working desperately from the first light to the last peep until you are plugged out." "Then?" his companion said, eagerly. "Perhaps you crawl out to Lavenue's and sit there in the evening watching the people sip and talk, the girls sauntering home, or the students who are gassing forever.
"Gawd help us!" he bellowed to the man next to him, "but we're blooming marvels! Look at those gray ... gentlemen, look at them! D'ye see them? They're not going down in dozens nor in 'undreds; it's thousands, it is. Look! look! there's a regiment gone while I'm talking to ye." "Shut it!" the other soldier bellowed, taking aim, "what are ye gassing about?"
With interminable indignation she narrated her retorts to "that fresh head-barber" and the drastic things she would do to him if he persisted in saying that she was "better at gassing than at hoof-paring." At Biddlemeier's Inn they were unable to get anything to drink. The head-waiter refused to understand who George F. Babbitt was.
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