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Updated: April 30, 2025
On the evening of October 24, 1838, news reached Far West that a Methodist preacher by the name of Bogart was leading a mob to destroy the property of the Saints on Log Creek. That same evening a company of about seventy-five men led by Captain David W. Patten mounted their horses and rode to the scene of trouble.
Bogart were at the window, and Carol saw that they were staring so intently that they answered her wave only with the stiffly raised hands of automatons. In the next block Mrs. Dr. Westlake was gaping from her porch. Carol said with an embarrassed quaver: "I want to run in and see Mrs. Westlake. I'll say good-by here." She avoided his eyes. Mrs. Westlake was affable.
Bogart, who resided at Albany, would consent to be of the party, as the plan was to visit and dine with another and a mutual connection of the Mordaunts, at Kinderhook, While the sleighs were getting ready, Herman Mordaunt walked round to the house of Mrs. Bogart, made his request, and was successful.
Bogart, "then that woman had the impudence to say to me, 'What purpose could I have in wanting the filthy pup to get drunk? That's just what she called him pup.
Carol was very sick at this version of Fern's eager youth, but she was sicker as Mrs. Bogart hinted that no one could tell what had happened between Fern and Cy before the drive home.
She was a widow, and a Prominent Baptist, and a Good Influence. She had so painfully reared three sons to be Christian gentlemen that one of them had become an Omaha bartender, one a professor of Greek, and one, Cyrus N. Bogart, a boy of fourteen who was still at home, the most brazen member of the toughest gang in Boytown. Mrs. Bogart was not the acid type of Good Influence.
Thus you see commerce is made by people supplying themselves and each other with what they need. Just as soon as we can bring down a crate of berries and send it to Mr. Bogart we shall be adding to the commerce of the world in the best way. We shall become what are called the 'producers, and but for this class the world would soon come to an end."
Mark's for dinner. Stooped, her elbows on the table, she heard with excitement that "Cy Bogart had the 'flu, but of course he was too gol-darn mean to die of it." "Will wrote me that Mr. Blausser has gone away. How did he get on?" "Fine! Fine! Great loss to the town. There was a real public-spirited fellow, all right!" She discovered that she now had no opinions whatever about Mr.
Raddy knew it; he sized up that swing, and now I know it. Get wise, you its!" When old Spears pasted a single through shortstop, the Buffalo manager took Clary out of the box and put in Vane, their best pitcher. Bogart advanced the runner to second, but was thrown out on the play. Then Rube came up. He swung a huge bat and loomed over the Bison's twirler. Rube had the look of a hitter.
Bogart, and she now saw Juanita Haydock's gossip not as vulgarity but as gaiety and remarkable analysis. Her life had changed, even before Hugh appeared. She looked forward to the next bridge of the Jolly Seventeen, and the security of whispering with her dear friends Maud Dyer and Juanita and Mrs. McGanum. She was part of the town. Its philosophy and its feuds dominated her.
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