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Updated: June 17, 2025
"I think I shall," answered Ben calmly. Undisturbed by the thought that his departure was viewed with joy by Conrad and his mother, Ben set out on his Western journey. His destination was Centerville, in Western Pennsylvania. I may as well say that this is not the real name of the place, which, for several reasons, I conceal.
When our regiment arrived at the camp at Centerville, after a march of ten miles, we found that no provision had been made for us, and it now being the last of November. In the small hours of the morning Colonel Bissell drilled the regiment on a double quick movement on the race course to warm us up. The regiment was ordered to embark on November 29.
Frank guessed this much, for he immediately introduced himself and his chums. "We're from Centerville, a town that's a good way off from here. My name's Frank Langdon, this is Will Milton, the one next to him is Bluff Masters, and the other fellow, Jerry Wallington.
He always means what he says, and says just what he means. Let me assure you, there is no truer man in the Empire State than this same Quintin." A few days later Sparrow found himself set ashore at Centerville Landing at an early hour in the morning. The first thing he saw was a plainly dressed man sitting in a buckboard who, as Sparrow approached, accosted him with the words: "Mr.
They entered the house and found Nancy at once, as if she had been awaiting their coming, who, without being asked, remarked: "Tom waited until the president was elected, and then started to Centerville, taking Leon with him to cable to London his acceptance. It is about half an hour since they started." "How did he go?" asked Quintin. "On foot; he took the boy with him for company.
Frank hustled the others out of the boathouse, locked the door, and then the four chums hastened to their various homes. Ere the half hour was up they came together at the forks of the road, just out of Centerville. Frank was first on hand, as usual, but even laggard Will showed up on time, camera and all.
Now, Uncle Toby, do you think you can stand a mile or two of rough sledding; for the 'tote-road' is hardly meant for a wagon with springs?" Frank asked, as the other vanished from sight, going back along the way they had come from Centerville. "'Deed an' I specks I kin, Marse Frank; dis chile is able to stan' a heap o' knockin' 'round on 'casion.
After the fatigue of his journey, Ben enjoyed a good supper and a comfortable bed. The evening, however, he spent in the public room of the inn, where he had a chance to listen to the conversation of a motley crowd, some of them native and residents, others strangers who had been drawn to Centerville by the oil discoveries.
"We immediately mounted our horses," as Trumbull wrote to his wife the next day, "and galloped to the road, by which time it was crowded, hundreds being in advance on the way to Centerville and two guns of Sherman's battery having already passed in full retreat. We kept on with the crowd, not knowing what else to do.
I've been having to make signs to them all morning." The soldier's brow wrinkled. "That's what they told me of this place in Centerville," he said. "They said I was only wasting shoe-leather to come down here. That it was no place for an American." "Maybe they're right," Gregory cut in. Then he added: "However, we may be able to change things. What can you do?"
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