once upon a time in amenca

once upon a time in amenca "I cannot help thinking that you may do more harm than good by "That's Deacon Ringold's buck-board," Billy informed his chum, drawing him behind an alder-screened stump. "Say, ain't he drivin'? Somebody must be sick at his place." Then as the complaining vehicle swept into sight from around the curve, "By crackey, Maurice, your Pa's ridin' with him.",Suddenly he heard his own name. “John Christopher Winkel Blossom,” read the Admiral. That was Johnny’s own name exactly. Uncle Isaac had often said that there was no one among all the relatives who had the whole of the old name now except Johnny Blossom.,"Be careful, Billy. Don't touch him!" warned Hinter, but he spoke too late. Billy had bent and laid his hand gently on the dog's quivering back. The low growl died in the animal's throat. Slowly his heavy muzzle was lifted until his nose touched Billy's cheek. Then his long flail-like tail began to wag.,“No; well,” came the answer.,“At the Canyon?” asked Mr. Whitney. “I don’t see how you could. It is a pretty dreary place, if you have to be there long.”，Suddenly the still and silent air was rent by a noise that has no equal in the world. It was the blood-curdling war whoop of an Indian. Coming so close to their ears, although they had been expecting it, the boys nearly jumped out of their skins with terror.，It was a ticklish moment. They shot out of the white spray and were headed for the rocky wall. “Quick, Jerry!” yelled Bob. “Pull her ’round.”，"Yes, quite so: that is exactly what I meant," returns he, agreeably. It was not what he meant; but that doesn't count. "How awfully clever you are," he says, presently, alluding to her management of the little pats, which, to say truth, are faring but ill at her hands.“Well, you are early enough I hope. I want to say this much, Johnny Blossom, that I won’t have it on my conscience that you should eat any half-rotten apples—and there are usually a good many half-rotten of this kind—but those that are cracked or bruised you may have, for they won’t keep anyway.”

The kettle which had been boiling itself hoarse for the last hour, was now called into requisition.,In the lofty, echoing rooms everything had been left undisturbed: the furniture with its silken upholstery, the mirrors reaching from floor to ceiling, the great paintings that filled the walls, and the art treasures, gathered from every corner of the world. Many of these tapestries and vases and statues were extremely rare, but to Johnny Blossom they were only queer, especially a certain Indian idol with an ugly face made of gold. Why should any one want that?,In it he found two persons who owned the lodge, a man and his wife. The man said to him, "You are welcome," and Weasel Heart sat down. Then spoke the owner of the lodge saying, "My son, this is my lodge, and I give it to you. Look well at it inside and outside; and make your lodge like this. If you do that, it may be a help to you.","You are a Portia," said Captain Acton.,"Well, it wasn't my fault, was it? I had nothing to do with it. She hadn't her head on my shoulder, had she? and it wasn't my arm was round her," says Mr. Darling losing patience a little.,“Heat lightning, I guess,” returned the other, but before the words were out of his mouth the same phenomenon occurred and this time he saw it.,“Oh Miss Gordon,” cried Betty, her dark brown eyes sparkling with delight, “the flowers can talk to each other across them telfone wires, can’t they?”,"How do you like it now?" asked Griffin, as the gong released them for the rest, and they slipped out in the corridor to look for Elinor.,“Well I’m not going to stay an’ play kid games,” Jimmy retorted loftily, and turned away.,How pleasant that no one was up yet, and that he could settle himself cosily at Mother’s writing desk! Uncle Isaac had been his godfather at baptism, so Johnny Blossom wrote:,Each rising murmur which the wild wave pours.,"It is really hardly worth talking about," she says, grandly. "I was foolish to lay so great a stress on such a trifling matter. It doesn't signify, not in the least. But—but," the blood mounting to her brow, "if ever you speak of it again,—if ever you even mention the word 'heather,'—I shall hate you!".