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Updated: June 4, 2025
Tucker thereupon said that his honorable friend from Maine reminded him of the Pharisee in the parable, apparently thanking his Deity for having created him unlike "You," broke in Mr. Blaine, who had seated himself in the semicircle immediately in front of Mr. Tucker's desk.
Tucker's simple and unaffected manner there was a greater superiority than he had ever noticed during their previous acquaintance. He would have felt kinder to her had she shown any "airs and graces," which he could have commented upon and forgiven.
She had so digested Mrs Howell's fact by the time she had reached Mr Tucker's shop, that she thus represented the case of the charred stick to Mr Tucker without any immediate sting of conscience for telling a lie.
F rode first for we could only go in single file with the detestable Tucker's bridle over his arm; then came the chestnut, with his ears well back, and his eyes all whites, in his efforts to look at his especial aversion, the guns; he kicked all the way down the many hills, and pulled back in the most aggravating manner at each ascent, and when we came to a creek sat down on his tail, refusing to stir.
Veitch's The Feeling for Nature in Scottish Poetry. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. Gummere's Old English Ballads. Child's The English and Scotch Popular Ballads. Collins's Greek Influence on English Poetry. Tucker's The Foreign Debt of English Literature. Malory. Craik, Century, 19-33; Swiggett's Selections from Malory; Wragg's Selections from Malory, all contain good selections.
Tucker's face. "Indeed!" she said coldly. "Then I am to believe that you prefer to spend your leisure moments in looking after that creature to calling here?" Poindexter was stupefied. Was this the woman who only four months ago was almost vindictively eager to pursue her husband's paramour! There could be but one answer to it Don Jose!
I don't mind renewing that offer I once made ye, before Spencer ever came round ye I don't mind, Belle, I swear I don't! Honest Injin! I'm in earnest, there's my hand." Mrs. Tucker's reply has not been recorded. Enough that half an hour later Mr. Weaver appeared in the courtyard with traces of tears on his foolish face, a broken falsetto voice, and other evidence of mental and moral disturbance.
They used to tell how Silas Petty mourned for forty days, and, as Sally Ann said, he had about as much religion as old Dan Tucker's Derby ram. "However, it was the organ I set out to tell about. It's jest like me to wander away from the p'int. Abram always said a text would have to be made like a postage stamp for me to stick to it.
Tucker's quiet face did not betray the fact that this second visitor was even less interesting than the first. In her heart she did not like Captain Poindexter.
Tucker's room "not here." He stopped, appeared to recall himself, and with an apologetic smile and a studied but graceful gesture of invitation, he motioned to the gateway, and said, "Will you ride?" "What can the fellow be up to?" muttered Poindexter, as with an assenting nod he proceeded to remount his horse. "If he wasn't an old hidalgo, I'd mistrust him. No matter! here goes!"
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