The Biglow papers

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Trübner & Company, 1862 - 120 pages
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Page 6 - If I did despise the cause of my manservant or of my maidservant, When they contended with me ; What then shall I do when God riseth up? And when he visiteth, what shall I answer him? Did not he that made me in the womb make him ? And did not one fashion us in the womb?
Page 46 - Would it jest meet your views, John, To wait an' sue their heirs ? Ole Uncle S. sez he,
Page 37 - Take nary man ? Fine preachin' from her lips ! Why, she hez taken hunderds from our ships, An' would agin, an' swear she had a right to, Ef we warn't strong enough to be perlite to. Of all the sarse thet I can call to mind, England doos make the most onpleasant kind : It 's you 're the sinner oilers, she 's the saint ; Wut 's good 's all English, all thet is n't ain't ; Wut profits her is oilers right an
Page 6 - But ask now the beasts, and they shall teach thee ; and the fowls of the air, and they shall tell thee...
Page 39 - s run her head into a swarm o' bees. I ain't so prejudiced ez wut you spose : I hev thought England was the best thet goes ; Remember (no, you can't), when /was reared, God...
Page 50 - Thet truth may strike JB, Ez wal ez you an' me ! " God means to make this land, John, Clear thru, from sea to sea, Believe an' understand, John, The wuth o' bein' free. Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess, God's price is high...
Page 48 - s his claim," sez he, " The fencin'-stuff '11 cost enough To bust up friend JB, Ez wal ez you an' me ! " Why talk so dreffle big, John, Of honor, when it meant You did n't care a fig, John, But jest for ten per cent ? Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess, He 's like the rest...
Page 44 - Brown foundlin' o' the woods, whose baby-bed Was prowled roun' by the Injun's cracklin' tread, An' who grew'st strong thru shifts an
Page 79 - From lower to the higher next, Not to the top, is Nature's text ; And embryo Good, to reach full stature, Absorbs the Evil in its nature.
Page 44 - s gut to be A better country than man ever see. I feel my spent swellin' with a cry Thet seems to say, "Break forth an' prophesy ! " 0 strange New World, thet yit wast never young, Whose youth from thee by gripin...

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