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"The old gentleman's name is Hornblow. He is the lady's father, and as rich as a Jew, they say," continued Mrs Rainscourt's maid. "Mrs Rainscourt don't live with her husband, ma'am; by all accounts he's a bad 'un," continued the Abigail of Susan.
There are no words for it. From deep within her something rose up softly ... she drew one or two long, half-sobbing breaths ... . Aunt Abigail laid down her book and looked over at the child. "Do you know," she said, in a conversational tone, "do you know, I think it's going to be real nice, having a little girl in the house again."
Charles B. Waite, "Who Were the Voters in the Early History of This Country?" Chicago Law Times, Oct., 1888. In 1776, Abigail Adams wrote her husband, John Adams, at the Continental Congress in Philadelphia, "In the new code of laws which I suppose it will be necessary for you to make, I desire you would remember the ladies and be more generous and favorable to them than your ancestors!
The contest was not long delayed, for Henry, feeling that he had powerful auxiliaries on his side, was eager to see his own positions triumph, as he was sure that they must. The welcome words that greeted their entrance had not long been said, before he asked, turning to his aunt, "What do you think I found on Mary's table, the other day, Aunt Abigail?" "I don't know, Henry. What was it?"
"I don't know that she's any too willing to," returned Abigail, half laughing. "The principal thing that seems to trouble the child is that Jerome won't come to see her. I rather think that if he would come to see her she would be perfectly contented." "And why can't he come to see her, if she wants him to will you tell me that?" cried the Squire, with sudden fervor.
To see that their faces were washed, their clothes mended, and their catechism learned; to see that they did not pick the flowers, nor throw stones at the chickens, nor sophisticate the great house dog, was an accumulation of care that devolved almost entirely on Mrs. Abigail, so that, by her own account, she lived and throve by a perpetual miracle.
An' I expec' the Lord meant you should turn your hand over to find out what's in it, anyway." I think that then we tried our woman's way of all talking at once, but I remember how the shrill voice of Abigail Arnold, of the home bakery, rose above the others: "Cream puffs!" she cried.
Spear understands, and, disappearing, leaves you to your thoughts and June's. John and Abigail were lovers their lifetime through. Their published letters show a oneness of thought and sentiment that, viewed across the years, moves us to tears to think that such as they should at last feebly totter, and then turn to dust.
In the meantime, the novelist's identity was revealed to the chatelaine. A lively conversation was immediately engaged in, and, when the impromptu Abigail returned with the refreshment, the first words she heard were: "Well, Monsieur Balzac, so you think " Full of surprise and joy she started, dropped the tray she had in her hands, and everything was broken.
In the stretch between the Square and Eleventh Street, it points out as residences of particular interest those of Paul Dana, No. 1, George T. Bestle, No. 3, F. Spencer Witherbee, No. 4, and Lispenard Stewart, No. 6; all below Eighth Street. Then, between Eighth and Ninth, Pierre Mali, No. 8, John C. Eames, No. 12, Miss Abigail Burt, No. 14, Dr. J. Milton Mabbott, No. 17, Dr.
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