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One day a rumor went around that a belated traveller had seen a misty thing under "the owl tree" at a turn of a road where owls were hooting, and that it took on a strange likeness to the missing clergyman. Dickerman paled when he heard this story, but he shook his head and muttered of the folly of listening to boy nonsense.
"Cassandra," thundered grand'ther, "have you no respect for God nor man?" "Have you read," went on the minister, "the memoir of Nathan Dickerman? A mere child, he realized his burden of sin in time, and died sanctified." I thought it best to say no more. Aunt Mercy looked disturbed, and left the table as soon as she could with decency.
Dickerman lay dead on the floor. Sharply's body was exhumed from the shade of the owl tree, and the spot was never haunted after. There is no doubt that farmer Lovel had read ancient history or he would not have been so ready in the emergency that befell him one time in the last century.
The sympathies of the President were not limited to his own friends or his own army. The author is permitted to narrate the following incident doubtless there were many others like it which is given by an eye-witness, the Reverend Lysander Dickerman, D.D., of New York City: It was at Hatcher's Run on the last Sunday before the close of the war.
On the morning after his disappearance, however, Deacon Dickerman appeared in Alfred riding on a horse that was declared to be the minister's, until the tavern hostler affirmed that the minister's horse had a white star on forehead and breast, whereas this horse was all black.
Ten years had gone by-during that time the boys had avoided the owl tree after dark when a clergyman of the neighborhood was hastily summoned to see Mr. Dickerman, who was said to be suffering from overwork. He found the deacon in his house alone, pacing the floor, his dress disordered, his cheek hectic. "I have not long to live," said he, "nor would I live longer if I could.
The National Woman Suffrage Association of Massachusetts, a smaller organization, disbanded in 1901 after nearly twenty years of existence. Mrs. Sarah A. P. Dickerman was acting president, Miss Lavina A. Hatch secretary. It had held eleven monthly meetings during the past year, done congressional work and contributed to the Susan B. Anthony table at the national bazar in New York.
Ten years had gone by-during that time the boys had avoided the owl tree after dark when a clergyman of the neighborhood was hastily summoned to see Mr. Dickerman, who was said to be suffering from overwork. He found the deacon in his house alone, pacing the floor, his dress disordered, his cheek hectic. "I have not long to live," said he, "nor would I live longer if I could.
On the morning after his disappearance, however, Deacon Dickerman appeared in Alfred riding on a horse that was declared to be the minister's, until the tavern hostler affirmed that the minister's horse had a white star on forehead and breast, whereas this horse was all black.
Dickerman lay dead on the floor. Sharply's body was exhumed from the shade of the owl tree, and the spot was never haunted after. There is no doubt that farmer Lovel had read ancient history or he would not have been so ready in the emergency that befell him one time in the last century.
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