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Updated: May 15, 2025
She can't act, and she throws her weight about all the time. The other day there was a fuss about a paper-knife..." "How do you mean, a fuss about a paper-knife?" "One of the props, you know. It got mislaid. I'm certain it wasn't my fault..." "How could it have been your fault?" asked Sally wonderingly. Love seemed to have the worst effects on Fillmore's mentality. "Well er you know how it is.
Burrowes clutched at his coat-button with a swoop, and held him with a glittering eye. "Yes, but, say, before-you-go-lemme-tell-ya-somef'n. You've never seen this boy of mine, not when he was feeling right. Believe me, he's there! He's a wizard. He's a Hindoo! Say, he's been practising up a left shift that..." Fillmore's eye met Sally's wanly, and she pitied him.
That done, and having established all these branches as going concerns, I shall sail for England and introduce Popp's Pork-pies there... Isn't he a little wonder!" "Dashed brainy chap. Always said so." "I must say I was rather uneasy when I read that. I've seen so many of Fillmore's Big Ideas. That's always the way with him. He gets something good and then goes and overdoes it and bursts.
The first atmosphere of uncomfortable restraint, caused, she was only too well aware, by her brother Fillmore's white evening waistcoat, had worn off; and the male and female patrons of Mrs. At her end of the table the conversation had turned once more to the great vital topic of Sally's legacy and what she ought to do with it.
Something was plainly vexing Fillmore's great mind. "Sally," he said at last, and coughed hollowly into the receiver. "Yes." "I that is to say, I have asked Gladys... Gladys will be coming to see you very shortly. Will you be in?" "I'll stay in. How is Gladys? I'm longing to see her again." "She is very well. A trifle a little upset." "Upset? What about?" "She will tell you when she arrives.
Lincoln was Mr. Fillmore's guest. They had known each other well in Congress Fillmore a veteran at the head of the Committee of Ways and Means, Lincoln then quite unknown, serving his only term. Both were Whigs of the old school, in close contact and I suppose not afterwards far apart.
"Though, as a matter of fact, you often find sisters-in-law who won't have anything to do with one another. I know a fellow..." "Ginger," said Sally, "it's no good your thinking you can get out of telling me by rambling off on other subjects. I'm grim and resolute and relentless, and I mean to get this story out of you if I have to use a corkscrew. Fillmore's wife, you were saying..."
"Say what you will about Fillmore," said a fellow-totterer to me the other day, adjusting his "store" teeth for an emphatic declaration, "by signing the Fugitive Slave Bill he saved the country. That act postponed the Civil War ten years. Had it come in 1850, as it assuredly would but for that scratch of Fillmore's pen, the Union would have gone by the board.
"There's several settlements before we come to the desert," father answered. "Fillmore's sixty miles south. Then comes Corn Creek. And Beaver's another fifty miles. Next is Parowan. Then it's twenty miles to Cedar City. The farther we get away from Salt Lake the more likely they'll sell us provisions." "And if they won't?" the same woman persisted. "Then we're quit of them," said my father.
Fillmore's work for the education and elevation of the agricultural classes, had given her energy and inspiration to accomplish a similar and co-operative work among people of wealth and leisure, who, ignorant of the true object and purpose of life, were unwittingly wasting precious years in leading indolent and aimless lives, by lending themselves body and soul to the care and canker of the fashionable game of killing time.
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