时间：2020-07-07 15:05:51 作者：狐妖小红娘 浏览量：13439
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Whin he was gone I looked about me kitchin, hardly knowing what I was seeing, wid the ixcipshun of the hash on the flure. Prisintly I herd the family coming home and I sneeked upstares hoping to get the chance of seeing Miss Claire alone. The family was on the porch, and I herd Mr. James reeding aloud from a litter in his hand:
A sur-geon in the ar-my, Dr. Em-er-son, of St. Lou-is, owned Dred Scott and his wife Har-ri-et. He took them to Rock Is-land, in I-o-wa, to Fort Snell-ing, Min-ne-so-ta, and then back to St. Lou-is. As they had been
Thus Michael Meyer the Rosicrucian parted from Basil Wolgemuth.
“He sho’ did, Bud. I wouldn’t lie about the old man, now that he’s dead. It ain’t right to lie about dead people—even to make ’em say nice an’ proper things they never thought of whilst alive. If we’d stop lyin’ about the ungodly dead an’ tell the truth about ’em, maybe the livin’ ’u’d stop tryin’ to foller after ’em in that respect. As it is, every one of ’em knows that no matter how wicked he lives there’ll be a lot o’ nice lies told over him after he’s gone, an’ a monument erected, maybe, to tell how good he was. An’ there’s another lot of half pious folks in the wurl it ’u’d help—kind o’ sissy pious folks—that jus’ do manage to miss all the fun in this world an’ jus’ are mean enough to ketch hell in the nex’. Get religion, but don’t get the sissy kind. So I am for tellin’ it about old man Galloway jus’ as he was.
“Fun!” snarled Cyril. “What’s the fun of secrets? I want to know—”
Who are you, sweet boy, with cheeks yet blooming?
"Oh yes, I'm sure he's a gentleman, Walter; his letter to mamma proves that, offering to defer his arrival at the schoolhouse until our own time. Of course that is impossible, and we go into Mrs. Swainson's lodgings at once."
1.“It was this way,” he continued, winking encouragement to Mrs. Ferris who had come to a momentary and disapproving halt at sight of her husband’s uninvited guest. “The day after Wipple was elected mayor, I asked him who he was aiming to appoint to the high and loocrative office of dog catcher. He told me he was goin’ to appoint you. I says to him, ‘But Eben Shunk’s the meanest man 72in town!’ And Wipple answers ‘I know he is. He’s as mean as pussly. That’s why I’ve picked him out for dog catcher. No decent feller would take such a dirty job.’ That’s what Mayor Wipple told me, Shunk. So you see if you hadn’t happened to be the meanest man in Hampton, you’d never ’a’ got—”
175Granther used to tell me how the gentry on the other side would bet with each other on their dogs at the shows. Six months ago my Aunt Marjorie died and she willed me nine hundred dollars (0). It is in bank waiting for a good investment for it. Now here is an investment that seems to me a mighty safe one. Me knowing Bobby as I do. A fine sporting investment. And I hope it may please you as well. I am entering Bobby for Westminster. I read in Dog News that you are expecting to enter Champion Lochinvar King there, with others of your string. So here is my proposition.
It was like a country fair in one of our Southern cities, only cruder and quainter. For example, instead of the familiar shooting gallery, with painted targets, one enterprising man had set up a dozen painted sticks on a rough box, and offered to the public, for something less than a cent, the opportunity to shoot at them with an ancient cross-bow, such as I did not imagine existed outside of museums. Then there were all sorts of curious and primitive games of chance. Among other devices for entertaining and mystifying the people I noticed a young woman seated in a chair, blindfolded. A crowd surrounded her while she named various objects