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Updated: July 2, 2025
De day, suh, dat you win in de ridin', and you crown Miss Lucy de queen?" "Tournament?" said Mr. Robert, taking his cigar from his mouth. "Yes, I remember very well the but what the deuce are you talking about tournaments here at midnight for? Go 'long home, Bushrod. I believe you're sleep-walking."
Uncle Bushrod bowed his head to the expected storm, but he did not flinch. If the house of Weymouth was to fall, he would fall with it. The banker spoke, and Uncle Bushrod blinked with surprise. The storm was there, but it was suppressed to the quietness of a summer breeze. "Bushrod," said Mr. Robert, in a lower voice than he usually employed, "you have overstepped all bounds.
De sun sot red las' night." Mr. Robert lit a cigar in the shadow, and the smoke looked like his gray ghost expanding and escaping into the night air. Somehow, Uncle Bushrod could barely force his reluctant tongue to the dreadful subject. He stood, awkward, shambling, with his feet upon the gravel and fumbling with his stick.
She sent for Uncle Bushrod, and she say: 'Uncle Bushrod, when I die, I want you to take good care of Mr. Robert. Seem like' so Miss Lucy say 'he listen to you mo' dan to anybody else. He apt to be mighty fractious sometimes, and maybe he cuss you when you try to 'suade him but he need somebody what understand him to be 'round wid him.
Hopper was a member of the Emancipation Society, and had a right to be satisfied. The Power of Attorney was correctly drawn, and had been acknowledged in Washington, before Bushrod Washington, one of the judges of the Supreme Court of the United States. Friend Hopper's keen eye could detect no available flaw in it.
With this view I nominate Fisher Ames, of Dedham, in the State of Massachusetts; Bushrod Washington, of Richmond, in the State of Virginia, and Alfred Moore, of North Carolina, to be commissioners of the United States with full powers to hold conferences and conclude a treaty with the Cherokee Nation of Indians for the purposes before mentioned. UNITED STATES, January 17, 1798.
Robert set the satchel softly upon a desk, and turned his coat collar up about his neck and ears. He was dressed in a rough suit of gray, as if for travelling. He glanced with frowning intentness at the big office clock above the burning gas-jet, and then looked lingeringly about the bank lingeringly and fondly, Uncle Bushrod thought, as one who bids farewell to dear and familiar scenes.
"Do," he said. They drove through the gate and up to the house. Aunt Loraine profusely reproached her husband for not advising her of Joseph's arrival. "It's a shame. Here at the last minute. You might have at least sent me word, Bushrod." "We had to go out in the country," Uncle Buzz replied with decision.
In his will the "Honorable Bushrod Washington" is named as one of the executors, and to him Washington left his library and all his private papers, besides a share in the estate. Such confidence was a fitting good-by from the great and loving heart of a father to a son full worthy of the highest trust. Of Washington's relations with his brother Charles, we know but little.
"How many signers did you git?" inquired Rogers that night when the family were again assembled around the fire. "Forty-three down, four more doubtful, and two more promised conditionally." "Who air the conditionals?" "The Hinkson children." "Whut's Bushrod Hinkson mekin' conditions fur, I'd lak to know?" exclaimed Mrs. Rogers. "I'll bet it's jes' his stinginess.
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