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Updated: June 13, 2025
Axel thought if that was so, 'twould be easy to find a buyer; but Aronsen laughed scornfully at the idea there was nobody there in the wilds had money to buy him out. "Not here in the wilds, maybe, but elsewhere." "Here's naught but filth and poverty," said Aron bitterly. "Why, that's as it may be," said Axel in some offence. "But Isak up at Sellanraa he could buy you out any day."
"Talk to the horse in Latin, Greek, French, English, or Spanish, or in any other language you please; but let him hear the sound of your voice, which at the beginning of the operation is not quite so necessary, but which I have always done in making him lift up his feet. Hold up your foot 'Live la pied' 'Alza el pie' 'Aron ton poda, etc., at the same time lift his foot with your hand.
"And why?" asks Aron angrily. "Why? I've a mind he'd be overwise and mysterious for you in the end." They argued over this for a while, and Aronsen grew more excited than ever. At last Axel asked jestingly: "Well, anyway, you'll not be so hard on us all to run away and leave us to ourselves in the wilds?" "Huh!
And most of all on Saturday evenings, the trading station at Storborg was crowded with folk, and Aron raking money in; his clerk and his wife were both called in to help behind the counter, and Aron himself serving and selling as hard as he could go at it and even then the place would not be empty till late at night.
His name was not Aron really, that being only his Christian name; properly, he was Aronsen, and so he called himself, and his wife called him the same. They were a family not to be looked down upon, and kept two servant-girls and a lad. As for the land at Storborg, it remained untouched for the present. Aronsen had no time for working on the soil where was the sense of digging up a barren moor?
And the owners of horse-flesh in the village, they were right; 'twas a mighty carting and hauling of wares up to Storborg; more than once they had to cut off corners of the old road and make new short cuts a fine new road it was at last, very different from Isak's first narrow path up through the wilds. Aron was a blessing and a benefactor, nothing less, with his store and his new road.
But in the story of that growth the names of Merriwether Lewis and William Clark will always be first, for it was they who threw open the door into the Far West. When Jefferson had been chosen President, another man named Aron Burr had run him very close. And, when the final choice fell on Jefferson, Aron Burr became Vice-President.
A closer examination revealed several things which failed to impress me at the outset. It was written in a strong and rather awkward masculine hand; several words were underscored, two misspelled, and I felt I scarcely knew why that it was written in a spirit of mingled contempt and defiance. Let me give the fragment just as it lay before me: "ARON! It is quite time be done.
The year 1872 had been very quietly spent in unremitting literary labor, tempered by genial visits from some illustrious Danes of the older generation, as particularly Hans Christian Andersen and Meyer Aron Goldschmidt, and by more formal intercourse with a few Germans such as Konrad Maurer and Paul Heyse; all this time, let us remember, no Norwegians "by request."
In the cottage were two young men. One of them, named Perkins, looked keenly at the stranger. It seemed to him that his face and clothes were not in keeping, and his boots looked to smart for the rest of his get up. After the stranger had gone he still thought about it. Then suddenly he said, "That was Aron Burr. Let us go after him and arrest him."
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