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It occurred to me what a lot I had heard about that ancestor, and seeing a light in the library, and considering how late it was, I thought I might have a glimpse of him without inconveniencing any other member of the family. Do you mind?" He put the question with an inflection that was at once engaging and confident. "Mind!" gasped John Wingfield, Sr. "I am sure you do not!" Prather returned.
They rigged up an old gig belonging to the negro, in which I was carried six miles to the plantation of Mr. Poyas, Sr. A neighboring physician was sent for, who tried the usual methods of setting the arm, but without success; each time making the operation more painful.
Bradley, Sr., stood by the brass cannon, blowing gently on his lighted fuse. The Peacemaker took the halliards of the German flag in his two hands, gave a quick, sharp tug, and down came the red, white, and black piece of bunting, and the next moment young Bradley sent the stars and stripes up in their place.
The boy must have been well for a long time. Yes! But he was well! That was the vital point. He was well, and magnificent in his vigor. The father made another movement; and still Jack was waiting, inquiring yet not advancing. And John Wingfield, Sr. wished that he had gone to the station; he wished that he had paid a visit to Arizona.
To deprive me of the power, with the assistance of the police, to recapture these men, would convert the consulate into a camp, and the consul would be permitted to exercise the right of a belligerent on neutral territories. I have the honour to be, &c., &c. Exmo. Sr. Don J. Mendez de Vigo, Military Governor, Cadiz. Friday, January 17th.
Dana, Sr., was a genial man, but reserved, and not much given to conversation. My friendship with Mr. Dana continued until General Butler became a candidate for Congress in the Essex district, and Mr. Dana became the nominee of the dissenting Republicans.
There was no use of trying to work in an office on Broadway when the forces which he had brought into being over twenty years ago were in danger of being unloosed out on the desert, with Jack riding free and the fingers of the ancestor-devil on the reins. John Wingfield, Sr. called in the general manager.
She well knew that Ryder, Sr., was a man who would stop at nothing to accomplish his purpose this she had demonstrated conclusively in her book but she had never dreamed that his hand would ever be directed against her own flesh and blood. Decidedly some fatality was causing Jefferson and herself to drift further and further apart. First, her father's trouble.
The undertakers asked for a lien on their place as a guarantee of the payment of the debt. Upon investigation it transpired that the place had been purchased by Arthur Daleman, Sr., in his own name. Mr. Crump had paid him in full for the place but the proper transfer had never been made. Mr. Daleman was not in the city and Arthur Daleman, Jr., refused to have anything to do with the matter.
She would not embarrass her father for anything in the world. But it was smart of Jefferson to have sent Ryder, Sr., the book, so she smiled graciously on his son as she asked: "How do you know he got it? So many letters and packages are sent to him that he never sees himself." "Oh, he saw your book all right," laughed Jefferson.
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