It lies buried under the sod with my poor dear departed saint." "But, Mrs Greenow,"-- and Cheesacre, as he prepared to argue the question with her, got nearer to her in the corner behind the table,--"But, Mrs Greenow, care killed a cat, you know." "And sometimes I think that care will kill me." "No, by George; not if I can prevent it." "You're very kind, Mr Cheesacre; but there's no preventing such care as mine." "Isn't there though?
I'll tell you what, Mrs Greenow; I'm in earnest, I am indeed.

If you'll inquire, you'll find there isn't a fellow in Norfolk pays his way better than I do, or is better able to do it.

I don't pay a sixpence of rent, and I sit upon seven hundred acres of as good land as there is in the county.

There's not an acre that won't do me a bullock and a half.

Just put that and that together, and see what it comes to.