The guileless peasant set down his buckets and considered.
The guileless peasant instantly resumed his buckets. "Then ah says nowt!" he answered briskly, and walked away at a great pace.
Again I ordered the shrimp-catchers to lend a hand with the buckets. They laughed defiantly, and those inside the cabin, the water up to their ankles, shouted back and forth with those on top.
But the Chinese scrambled madly into the cockpit and fell to bailing with buckets, pots, pans, and everything they could lay hands on.
There was a scuttling in the corners as the seconds cleared out through the ropes, taking with them the stools and buckets
. Only remained in the ring the two fighters and the referee.
But as I descended the companion stairs to clear the table I heard him shriek as the first bucket
of water struck him.
Bucket to the place in question," pursues the lawyer, "I shall feel obliged to you if you will do so."
Snagsby, Bucket dips down to the bottom of his mind.
Snagsby," resumes Bucket, taking him aside by the arm, tapping him familiarly on the breast, and speaking in a confidential tone.
The litter was swept up from the carpet, and the cinders and ashes were taken out of the grate, and the whole of it was in the bucket, when her attention was recalled to the children by hearing one of them cry.
This done, she swept up such fragments of the torn paper in the basket as had fallen on the floor; threw them back again into the basket, along with the gum-bottle; fetched the bucket, and emptied the basket into it; and then proceeded to the fourth and last room in the corridor, where she finished her work for that day.
To those of the white race who look to the incoming of those of foreign birth and strange tongue and habits of the prosperity of the South, were I permitted I would repeat what I say to my own race: "Cast down your bucket
where you are." Cast it down among the eight millions of Negroes whose habits you know, whose fidelity and love you have tested in days when to have proved treacherous meant the ruin of your firesides.
Gimme the bucket
-- I won't be gone only a a minute.
Forty year ago, you had only to let down the bucket
till the first knot in the rope was free of the windlass, and you heard it splashing in the cold dull water.
On the evening of the 9th of November in 1878, at about nine o'clock, young Charles Ashmore left the family circle about the hearth, took a tin bucket
and started toward the spring.