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The day when I landed in Hoboken, on the other hand, never arrives without my being fully conscious of the place it occupies in the calendar of my life. Is it because I do not remember myself coming into the world, while I do remember my arrival in America? However that may be, the advent of that day invariably puts me in a sentimental mood which I never experience on the day of my birth

It is true, that at Hoboken, as every where else, there are reposoires, which, as you pass them, blast the sense for a moment, by reeking forth the fumes of whiskey and tobacco, and it may be that these cannot be entered with a wife or daughter.

He said he had formerly served on a German liner plying between Hoboken and Hamburg, and his great regret was that he had not remained in this country when he had a chance. Life on a submarine, he said, was a dog's life. Even under peace conditions this is so. The men are cramped for room, in the first place.

I would not chance even on your positive assurance, but Redalli says it is all right, and he is the boss. He takes the responsibility." As intimated, Oscar started for Hoboken in company with the siren and two trusty men followed his steps. Our hero was determined that there should be no miss. He had provided against every possible contingency. He arrived at the house.

"I'll have you alongside the 'Mesopotamia' in twenty minutes," answered the skipper. "The 'Falcon' is the fastest tug on the Brooklyn front." He pushed out a black bottle, which Braun, in his character of "jovial tourist," liberally sampled. "You take an expensive way of getting to Hoboken," smilingly said Captain Jake Ashcroft. "Ah!

Once in a camp meeting a young minister was the evangelist, whom the Lord used mightily. One evening they were going to take up the love offering for the evangelist. A nice offering came in, not any too large, and they gave the evangelist seventy percent. Once at the Grand Forks, North Dakota Camp Meeting, Brother P. Pederson of Hoboken, New Jersey was to preach.

You may even go to Hoboken, a little town in the suburbs not at all like the well-known Sunday resort in Jersey. The Royal Museum is displayed in a large square. It is a handsome structure and the arrangement of the various galleries is simple. The Rubenses, thirty-odd in all, are the pièce de résistance, and the Flemish and Dutch Primitives of rare beauty.

And now their savage natures burst forth unrestrained. The flourishing little villages of Pavonia and Hoboken were instantly in flames. A general scene of massacre and destruction ensued. Men, women and children fell alike before the bullet, the arrow and the tomahawk. The inhabitants of fort Amsterdam in anguish witnessed the massacre, but could render no assistance.

She lived with her grandmother of eighty, working occasionally as a seamstress, and to her Alice gave all her earnings for three years. It was then considered better that she should go to live with an aunt, to whom she paid the nominal board of $1.15 a week. As her home was in West Hoboken, she spent two and a half hours every day on the journey in the cars and on the ferry.

Some of the people demanding free transportation back to America declared their residence to be in Hoboken, but could not tell if Hoboken were nearer New York City than to San Francisco. It was a great temptation for some people to get out of the war zone and into America at the expense of Uncle Sam.