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Updated: June 24, 2025
'Growed, Mas'r Davy bor'? Ain't he growed! said Ham. 'Ain't he growed! said Mr. Peggotty. They made me laugh again by laughing at each other, and then we all three laughed until I was in danger of crying again. 'Do you know how mama is, Mr. Peggotty? I said. 'And how my dear, dear, old Peggotty is? 'Oncommon, said Mr. Peggotty. 'And little Em'ly, and Mrs. Gummidge? 'On common, said Mr.
The author was a citizen of Antwerp, who kept a daily journal of the events as they occurred at Harlem. It is a dry, curt register of horrors, jotted down without passion or comment. Compare Bor, vi. 422, 423; Meteren, iv. 79; Mendoza, viii. 174, 175; Wagenaer, vad.
Or she would tell him of those cold, clear, far-off times in the northern sojourning places of our race tell him of the cow Audhumla, alone in the vast plain at the very beginning of things, licking the stones crusted over with hoar frost and salt, till, on the third day, there sprung from them a warrior named Bur, the father of Bör, the father of Odin, who is the father of all the gods.
Therefore he felt sure of his welcome; for, though Paul was but his far-off cousin, they were both Borsons, sprung from the same Norse root, children of the same great ancestor, the wise and brave Norwegian Bor. Lying in the Bay of Lerwick, the sense of security and of nearness to friends gave him what he had long missed a night of deep, dreamless sleep.
Jethro's reply had been that he was in no haste, that he could wait for what he came to get; that it was his own 'ay bor'! it was his own, and God or devil could not prevent the thing meant to be from the beginning of the world. He did not hear Fleda approach the hut; he was singing to himself a song he had learned in Montenegro.
We have seen with what astonishment the old Dutch scholar, Groen van Prinsterer, looked upon a man who had wrestled with authors like Bor and Van Meteren, who had grappled with the mightiest folios and toiled undiscouraged among half-illegible manuscript records. Having spared no pains in collecting his materials, he told his story, as we all know, with flowing ease and stirring vitality.
"What'd he got to say for hisself, then?" she asked. "'A woman like that can allust make time, the old doctor he say. 'Tell her to make time to help this here pore sufferin' woman. I'm a-sayin' it as he said it, Dinah. I ain't a-hintin' of it myself, bor."
Don't talk so loud! D'you want to git us killed? Which one got it?" "Purdy. De pilgrim shoot heem 'cause he run off wit' he's girl." "Pilgrim! What pilgrim! An' what girl? Ain't that Tex Benton's horse, an' Cinnabar Joe's ?" "Uh-huh, A'm bor' heem Tex boss for ketch Purdy. An', Ba goss, he shoot heem on he's head after Purdy draw'd!" Moore stared aghast. "What? A pilgrim done that?
'Taint a nat'ral thing, I'm a-sayin', for me to du, Dinah, ter pass the night alone along o' my old missus's corp." "Bor, 'taint the fust onnat'ral thing you ha' done i' your life," Mrs Brome said; and went out and shut the door. An hour or so later Depper opened it, and going hurriedly past the intervening cottages, knocked stealthily upon the door of Dinah Brome.
The man was encouraged to try again, this time adding to the name of the drover the single word "Musgrave ". It was a word he had evidently used before, for it was pronounced quite clearly. "Bor s Stoo bar.... Mus grave." The strange coupling of his father's name with that of the mysterious range of mountains roused sufficient interest in Sax to make him wish to reply.
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