Oh, I was an Indian in my time—a reg'ler measly hop-pickin' Siwash at that.
"Oh, I see," said the younger Milbrey—his face clearing all at once.
"Oh, blessed be the sound of your voice," replied the peasant.
And oh, sir,” added Stephen, “may we crave a drop of water for our dog?
Oh, if a man only could live up to the verses he cuts out of magazines!
Oh, I see—and of course you'd like your revenge—carrying me off from him just to hurt him.
"Oh, you were mean—mean—to shame me so," and floods of tears came again.
I'd been whipped, an' starved, an' I was always prayin', 'Oh!
Oh, ma'am—you're very polite—I feel it a great compliment, I assure you.
Oh, Colonel, help me to guard against so dreadful a calamity.
