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The only person who gave any information beyond that afforded by those who had seen the Doctor in the streets on the morning of his disappearance, was Professor Webster. About four o'clock on the Sunday afternoon the Professor called at the house of the Revd. Francis Parkman, the Doctor's brother. They were intimate friends. Webster had for a time attended Parkman's chapel; and Mr.
Parkman's office, and she was not very familiar with Chicago had it never occurred to Karl she might get lost and have some unfortunate experience? But fate did not favour her mood, and she reached the office in safety. Dr. Parkman did not seem at all surprised at seeing her alone, which flamed the fire anew. "He hasn't backed out?" he demanded, laughing a little.
Now if Parkman had only found an Ernestine but then he couldn't very well, for there was only one! Since the first of time, there had been only one and she was his! He fell to dreaming of how she had looked last night in the fire-light, and almost forgot the station at which he was to get off. He was in very jubilant mood when they went down to Dr. Parkman's office after the operation.
I know how to use my hands and there isn't a laboratory assistant in the whole University of Chicago knows as much about colour as I do!" she smiled like a pleased child. He looked at her then a long look. He had forgotten the moisture in his eyes, he did not mind. And it was many years since any one had seen upon Dr. Parkman's face the look which Ernestine saw there now.
He did not like the ladies very much, and the faults which he observed in them, from time to time, he was prone to condemn much too harshly. The reason why Mr. George did not like his friend Mr. Parkman's young wife was not because of any want of natural attractiveness in her person, or of amiableness in her disposition, for she was beautiful, accomplished, and kindhearted.
It is only when one reads such a book as Francis Parkman's "Oregon Trail" that one fully realizes the vast transformation which has taken place within little more than half a century in the great Northwestern territory beyond the Mississippi and the Missouri.
This charming scenery and the summer sounds of running water and birds make a nice accompaniment to the romance." "But mamma says," Evelyn interrupted, "there is plenty of legend here, and tradition and flavor, Indians and early settlers, and even Aunt Hepsy." "Well, I confess they don't appeal to me. And as for Indians, Parkman's descriptions of those savages made me squirm.
There was yet another historian in Boston, whose acquaintance I made later than either Parkman's or Parton's, and whose very recent death leaves me with the grief of a friend. No ones indeed, could meet John Codman Ropes without wishing to be his friend, or without finding a friend in him. He had his likes and his dislikes, but he could have had no enmities except for evil and meanness.
There's not a better surgeon in all Europe. Parkman's a tremendous help to me. Oh, it's going to be great to get back!" "We have some really nice things for our house," mused Ernestine. "I'm glad we decided to take that rug for the library. Of course it seemed pretty high, but a library without a nice rug wouldn't do at all not for us."
Parkman's history, and told all the neighborhood traditions of the frightened settlers, and burnt houses, and murdered children and very old people, and the terrible march of a few captives through the winter woods to Canada.
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