"I've got my notice--a bag of meal under the big tree at the Manor door." "I've to bring a pullet and a bag of charcoal," said Muroc.

"'Tis the rights of the Seigneur as of old." "Tiens! it is my mind," said Benoit, "that a man that nature twists in back, or leg, or body anywhere, gets a twist in's brain too.

There's Parpon the dwarf--God knows, Parpon is a nut to crack!" "But Parpon isn't married to the greatest singer in the world, though she's only the daughter of old leather-belly there," said Gingras.
"Something doesn't come of nothing, snub-nose," said Lajeunesse.

"Mark you, I was born a man of fame, walking bloody paths to glory; but, by the grace of Heaven and my baptism, I became a forgeron.

Let others ride to glory, I'll shoe their horses for the gallop." "You'll be in Parliament yet, Lajeunesse," said Duclosse the mealman, who had been dozing on a pile of untired cart-wheels.
"I'll be hanged first, comrade." "One in the family at a time," said Muroc.