human
Father, fatter, the moon is just getting up, and I think I see the negroes gathering at the edge of the wood.
gpt
Here, boys, pull in all these shutters, cried Dr. Blunt,
human
Less time for eating than for fighting and drinking, I suspect, said Billy Byles.
gpt
Here, Sir Richard, let me fill your tumbler. I'll take one for company. I say, Blunt, order half a dozen of this Madeira to the rooms upstairs. It is dry work fighting upon cold water.
human
Ay, bold Billy Byles to the last, said Dr. Blunt;
gpt
Father, father, cried the boy's voice again,
human
I can see them coming through the corn.
gpt
How many are there?
human
Twenty or thirty, I should guess, replied the boy;