There was a cross-eyed fellow used to help me survey,—he was my stake-driver,—and all he said was, at every stake he drove, “There, I shouldn’t like to undertake to pull that up with my teeth.”
It sticks in my crop. That’s a good phrase. Many things stick there.
The man of wild habits,
Partridges and rabbits,
Who has no cares
Who liv’st all alone,
Close to the bone,
And where life is sweetest
Constantly eatest.