United States or Cabo Verde ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Ballou made remarks of similar purport, and began the reform he could not live to continue, by throwing away the ancient pack of cards that had solaced our captivity during the flood and made it bearable. He said he never gambled, but still was satisfied that the meddling with cards in any way was immoral and injurious, and no man could be wholly pure and blemishless without eschewing them.
As I turned the one corner, smoking, Ollendorff turned the other with his bottle to his lips, and between us sat unconscious Ballou deep in a game of "solitaire" with the old greasy cards! Absurdity could go no farther. We shook hands and agreed to say no more about "reform" and "examples to the rising generation." The station we were at was at the verge of the Twenty-six-Mile Desert.
Nap Ballou, bending over her on some pretense that deceived no one, spoke low-voiced in her ear. But she veiled her eyes insolently and did not glance up. She hummed contentedly all the morning at her tedious work. She had promised Nap Ballou to go picknicking with him Sunday. Down the river, boating, with supper on shore. The small, still voice within her had said, "Don't go! Don't go!"
We had learned ours in one afternoon. It was plain that we had to walk through the sand and shove that wagon and those horses two hundred miles. So we accepted the situation, and from that time forth we never rode. More than that, we stood regular and nearly constant watches pushing up behind. We made seven miles, and camped in the desert. Ballou the blacksmith did the cooking.
Maturin Ballou, in his "Cuba Past and Present," published in 1885, when the sugar industry was in its best days, writes an interesting account of cane cultivation: "Sugar cane is cultivated like Indian corn, which it also resembles in appearance. It is first planted in rows, not in hills, and must be hoed and weeded until it gets high enough to shade its roots.
Fried chicken, chocolate cake. She packed them deftly and daintily. High-heeled white kid shoes, flimsy blouse, rustling skirt. Nap Ballou was waiting for her over in the city park. She saw him before he espied her. He was leaning against a tree idly, staring straight ahead with queer, lack-lustre eyes.
"I should say he was as crazy as a loon!" said old Ballou, but wild with excitement, nevertheless. "Gentlemen," said I, "I don't say anything I haven't been around, you know, and of course don't know anything but all I ask of you is to cast your eye on that, for instance, and tell me what you think of it!" and I tossed my treasure before them.
Weekly suffrage teas were established at headquarters during the winter, followed by addresses on current topics. The association was especially indebted to Mrs. Ballou, Mrs. Edward M. Harris and Miss Sarah J. Eddy for the hospitality of their homes that combined on many occasions social pleasure with excellent opportunity to present the suffrage cause.
The old wall, with its soldier-guarded gates, is gone, and there are a few modern buildings, but only a few, for which fact I always feel thankful, but the old city is much what it was when Mr. Ballou, and Mr. Dana, and Mr. Kimball, and numerous others wrote about it soon after 1850, and when Mr. Hazard wrote about it in 1870.
'That boat was the "Cyclone," last trip she ever made she sunk, that very trip captain was Tom Ballou, the most immortal liar that ever I struck. He couldn't ever seem to tell the truth, in any kind of weather. Why, he would make you fairly shudder. He WAS the most scandalous liar! I left him, finally; I couldn't stand it.
Word Of The Day