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Updated: April 30, 2025
REWARD-$1,000 reward for information as to slayer of Brindle Bulldog "Rags" killed in office of Malcolm Dorr, Stengel Building, Union Square, March 29. "That's too much money for a dog," decided Average Jones. "Particularly one that hasn't any bench record. I'll just have a glance into the thing."
Here he met an old shipmate, Captain Davis, whose vessel had gone ashore at a more favorable point, and who related to him the circumstances of the wreck of the Conductor. Struck by the account, Captain Dorr procured a sleigh and drove across the frozen bay to the shanty of Abigail Becker. He found her with her six children, all thinly clad and barefooted in the bitter cold.
Before Captain Dorr left, he took the measure of her own and her children's feet, and on his return to Buffalo sent her a box containing shoes, stockings, and such other comfortable articles of clothing as they most needed.
He gasped for breath, as if he had been writing with his heart's blood. Folding up the paper, he hid it inside his shirt and began his dogged walk, calculating the chances of escape. Once out of this shed, he could baffle a blood-hound, he knew the hills so well. His head bent down, he did not see a man who stood looking at him over the wicket. Captain Dorr.
"There is a gracefulness to the dialogue and an artistic balance in the characterization that keep one reminded that this is an author who is also an artist down to the last word." Philadelphia Press. "Mr. Nicholson keeps us entertained and uncertain to the end." Boston Herald. The Madness of May Illustrated by Frederic Dorr Steele "May to Mr. Nicholson is neither a person nor a month.
"She cared most for you always," Lamar had said, bitterly; "why have you waited so long?" "You loved her first, John, you know." That was like a man! He remembered that even that day, when his pain was breathless and sharp, the words made him know that Dorr was fit to be her husband. Dorr was his friend. The word meant much to John Lamar. He thought less meanly of himself, when he remembered it.
On my arrival here this morning from Newport, on my way to New York, I learnt from undoubted authority that several large boxes of muskets, supposed to contain about eighty, were received the evening before last at Woonsocket from New York; that several mounted cannon had been also received there and forwarded on to Chepachet; that a number of men, not citizens of the State, with arms, were in and about Woonsocket and Chepachet; that forty-eight kegs of powder were stolen on Sunday night last from a powder house in this neighborhood, and that Dorr, with about twenty men, landed last evening at Norwich.
By the private advices received by myself and the council from our messengers in the neighboring States we learn that Dorr and his agents are enlisting men and collecting arms for the purpose of again attempting to subvert, by open war, the government of this State.
Since Mars' sold dat cussed Joe, gorry good times 't home. Dam' Abolitioner say we ums all goin' Norf," with a stealthy glance at Dorr. "That's more than your philanthropy bargains for, Charley," laughed Lamar. The men stopped; the negro skulked nearer, his whole senses sharpened into hearing. Dorr's clear face was clouded. "This slave question must be kept out of the war.
Ross, whose office is on the floor above, to stop at this door on his way, down-stairs after quitting work late at night when the elevator had stopped running and let us say peep through the keyhole." Malcolm Dorr got up and stretched himself slowly. The sharp, clean lines of his face suddenly stood out again under the creasy flesh. "I don't know what you're going to do to Mr.
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