Handy Andy

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Ward, Lock & Company, 1842 - 338 oldal

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102. oldal - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
122. oldal - Hey, diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed to see such sport, And the dish ran away with the spoon!
12. oldal - While the postmaster went on with such provoking answers to these appeals for dispatch, Andy's eye caught the heap of letters which lay on the counter: so while certain weighing of soap and tobacco was going forward, he contrived to become possessed of two letters from the heap, and, having effected that, waited patiently enough...
10. oldal - said the postmaster, in a tone which Andy considered an aggression upon the sacredness of private life : so Andy thought the coolest contempt he could throw upon the prying impertinence of the postmaster was to repeat his question. " I want a letther, sir, if you plaze.
290. oldal - Oh, indeed, they are very throublesome," says Larry, " and are the latherary gintlemen, Sir, as you call them, mostly that way ?" " To be sure ; it is that which makes a litherary man— his head is full — teems with creation, Sir." " Dear, dear !" said Larry. " And when once the itch of litherature comes over a man, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen.
330. oldal - Honour and shame from no condition rise ; Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
9. oldal - Is this it, sir?" said Andy, producing a bottle of ale. " No, bad cess to you ! the little bottles." " Is it the little bottles with no bottoms, sir? " " I wish you wor in the bottom o' the say ! " said Mr. Morgan, who was fuming and puffing, and rubbing down his face with a napkin, as he was hurrying to all quarters of the room, or, as Andy said, in praising his activity, that he was " like bad luck— everywhere." " There they are," said Mr. Morgan, at last. " Oh, them bottles that won't stand,"...
284. oldal - WIDOW machree, it's no wonder you frown, Och hone ! widow machree ; Faith, it ruins your looks, that same dirty black gown, Och hone! widow machree. How altered your air, With that close cap you wear...
11. oldal - Just at this moment a person to whom Andy was known entered the house, who vouched to the postmaster that he might give Andy the squire's letter. "Have you one for me?" "Yes, sir," said the postmaster, producing one — "fourpence." The gentleman paid the fourpence postage, and left the shop with his letter. "Here's a letter for the squire," said the postmaster; "you've to pay me elevenpence postage.
231. oldal - ... every Sunday to that degree that you can't hear the blessed mass for a comfort and a benefit to you; and so you'll go on sneezin' until you put a good thatch on the place, and prevent the appearance of the evidence from Heaven against you every Sunday, which is condemning you before your faces, and behind your backs too, for don't I see this minit a strame o...

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