He was a very free-spoken man (the gentry of those days were much prouder than at present), and used to say to me in his haughty easy way, Hang it, Mr. Barry, you have no more manners than a barber.
Hang it, Mr. Barry, you have no more manners than a barber.
He’ll come off as badly as a feller I once hit a sledge hammer lick over the head—a real sogdolloger.
He discussed silversmiths and silver and gold beating, coinmakers, musical instrument makers, and the tools of these craftsmen, their technical vocabulary, what raw materials they used, and finally he returned to the salt cellar.
The Giraffe and the Zebra and the Eland and the Koodoo and the Hartebeest lived there; and they were 'sclusively sandy-yellow-brownish all over […]
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