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Updated: June 21, 2025
She paused a moment, and answered some one's question about the man, and went on, "He was just drunk. He meant no harm. It was Lige Bemis " "Oh, yes," said Watts McHurdie, "you know the old gang that used to be here before the town started. He's with the Red Legs now." "Well," continued Mrs. Barclay, "he said he wanted to come over and visit the sycamore tree by the spring."
And Watts McHurdie was so touched by the way ten years under a roof had tamed the woman whom he had known of old as "Happy Hallie," that he wrote a poem for the Banner about the return of the "Prodigal Daughter," which may be found in Garrison County scrap-books of that period. As for Mr.
The Thayer House was filled with guests, and the Fernalds had money in the bank; Mary Murphy and Gabriel Carnine were living happily ever after, and Nellie Logan was clerking in Dorman's Dry Goods store and making Watts McHurdie understand that she had her choice between a preacher and a drummer.
At length Dolan, after the fashion of debaters in the parliament, came out of his newspaper and said: "That, Mr. McHurdie, is a problem ranging off the subject, into the theories of the essence of time and space, and I refuse to answer it." Me Hurdie kept on working, and the hands of the clock slipped around nearly an hour.
In the early years of this century about 1902, probably John Barclay paid an accounting company twenty-five thousand dollars more money than General Ward and Watts McHurdie and Martin Culpepper and Jacob Dolan had saved in all their long, industrious, frugal, and useful lives to go over his business, install a system of audits and accounts, and tell him just how much money he was worth.
Evening after evening went thus, and was it strange that in the years that came, when the sunset of life was gilding things for Watts McHurdie, he looked through the golden haze and saw not the sand in the pit under the stove, not the rows of drugs on the wall, not the patent medicine bottles in their faded wrappers, but as he wrote many years after in "Autumn Musing":
John Barclay does not envy Watts McHurdie not at all; for Barclay, with all his faults, is not narrow-gauged; he does not wish they would call for him not to-day not at all; he could not face them now, even if they cheered him.
On the contrary, in all matters relating to and touching on affairs of the heart beware of the man with one wife." McHurdie flashed his yellow-toothed smile upon his friend and replied, "Or less than one?" "No, sir, just one," answered Colonel Culpepper. "A man with a raft of wives, first and last, is like a fellow with good luck the Lord never gives him anything else.
Jacob Dolan, sheriff in and for Garrison County for four years, beginning with 1873, remembered the summer of 1875 to his dying day, as the year when he tore his blue soldier coat, and for twenty-five years, after the fight in which the coat was torn, Dolan never put it on for a funeral or a state occasion, that he did not smooth out the seam that Nellie Logan McHurdie made in mending the rent place, and recall the exigencies of the public service which made it necessary to tear one's clothes to keep the peace.
Sitting at Sunday dinner with the Wards on the occasion of Elizabeth Cady Stanton Ward's first monthly birthday, John listened to the general's remarks on the iniquity of the money power, and the wickedness of the national banks, and kept respectful and attentive silence. The worst the young man did was to wink swiftly across the table at Watts McHurdie, who had been invited by Mrs.
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