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She was growing older; soon she would be beyond middle life and entering upon the first stages of old age. And what a lonely old age hers was likely to be! Her husband was dead; her only near relative, brother Jedediah, was well, he might be dead also, poor helpless, dreamy incompetent. He might have died in the Klondike, providing he ever reached that far-off country, which was unlikely.
The Spanish Trail seems to have been considered as the western extension of the Santa Fe Trail. The famous old traveler, Jedediah Smith, in 1826 and 1827, journeyed by the Sevier and Virgin River route to the Colorado River, though he appears to have made his own way, paralleling the aboriginal highway. In August of 1827, a number of his party were killed by Mohave Indians on the Colorado River.
Another message by the hand of the prophet to David and Bathsheba a message of peace and tender consideration a name for their new-born child, the gift to them from his own hand. "Call him Jedediah beloved of the Lord."
She turned from the door and, returning to her chair by the center table, sat down. For a moment she sat there and then, leaning her head upon her arms on the table, wept tears of absolute loneliness and despair. The telegram to Michael Kelly of San Francisco brought an answer, but a most unsatisfactory one. Jedediah Cahoon had not been in the Kelly employ for more than six weeks.
Samuel Finley Breese Morse was born in Charlestown, Massachusetts, on the 27th day of April, A.D. 1791. He came of good Puritan stock, his father, Jedediah Morse, being a militant clergyman of the Congregational Church, a fighter for orthodoxy at a time when Unitarianism was beginning to undermine the foundations of the old, austere, childlike faith.
When, notwithstanding the earnest prayer of the father, he smites the child of his shame, how soon does he return with a better gift a son of peace, who shall remind him only of days of contrition and the favor of God a Jedediah, who shall ever be a daily witness to his forgiving love.
Jedediah Cleishbotham, and some round dozen of the feuars and farmers, had been consigned to immortality by Tinto's brush, custom began to slacken, and it was impossible to wring more than crowns and half-crowns from the hard hands of the peasants whose ambition led them to Dick's painting-room. Still, though the horizon was overclouded, no storm for some time ensued.
"I didn't suppose you'd know me, Mattie," said Jedediah, still holding her hand foolishly. "I knew you the minute I set eyes on you," returned Mattie. "You're some fatter and older like myself but you're Jed still. Where have you been all these years?" "Pretty near everywhere, Mattie pretty near everywhere. And ye see what it's come to here I be driving a tin-wagon for Boone Brothers.
"I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage. I suppose my father could have been a good man even if he had been called Jedediah; but I'm sure it would have been a cross.
There is a proem, as it is termed, supposed to be written by Jedediah Cleishbotham, the schoolmaster and parish clerk of the village of Gandercleugh, in which we are given to understand that these Tales were compiled by his deceased usher, Mr. Peter Pattieson, from the narratives or conversations of such travellers as frequented the Wallace Inn, in that village.
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