The first glimpse of interest he showed wuz when they told him that there wuz a chance for Alice to live.
He turned his face towards the wall (so the nurse told me, a good, faithful creeter with a strong breath, caused by stimulants, I believe).
A faithful creeter with a strong breath, caused by stimulants, I believe.
Sez she, “I went to the foot of the bed and looked up, and see tears a-streamin’ down his white face. But I dare not speak to him,” sez she—“no, I dare not.”
Sez she, “His face had that look on it that it frightened me, and it gave me such a turn that I feel weak yet. I guess,” sez she, “I will take a drop to nerve me up. Don’t you want a drop of stimulant, too?” sez she.
“No, indeed,” sez I, “I don’t!”
“But,” sez I, “poor creeter, do everything you can for him, for the hand of the Lord has dealt sorely with him. And,” sez I, “I would gladly help him if I could, but I can do nothin’ but pray for him.”
Wall, there wuz a big funeral in the church where little Adrian had been baptized when he wuz a baby.
The minister, a very eloquent and high-priced one, preached a beautiful sermon about the inscrutable mysteries of our lives, and the mystery of the Providence who should take, in sech a onforeseen and onheard-of way the child of sech a man, who had spent his hull life for the good of the people—that angelic man, who wuz a-layin’ now in his palatial home at the pint of death.