Dear Miss Mally—I hav a cro to pik with you conserning yoor comishon aboot the partickels for your friends.
And you are bored to death at cro' Martin, too, if I mistake not?
There's a small public-house near the gate of cro' Martin, to be sure.
I 'm off to Oughter-ard, having made my adieux at cro' Martin.
With few pretensions to architectural correctness, cro' Martin was, indeed, an imposing structure.
But how different from all this was the day after the election at cro' Martin!
It was one of Mr. Martin's sudden caprices to ask him to cro' Martin.
A man aloft—a big, red-headed fellow, gave me an insolent answer from the cro'-jack yard, and I called him down.
Here we are now at cro' Martin, and then there's the first dinner-bell ringing.
The sun might get over the fore-yard and go down over the cro'-jack but we never touched liquor.