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Updated: May 28, 2025
It shall be called Millburg in those pages, and its inhabitants shall tell their stories and play their parts under the cover of that unsuggestive title; so that the curious reader of little faith shall have difficulty if he resolves to discover the whereabouts of the village and to inquire respecting the author's claim to credibility as a historian. Mr. and Mrs.
Maginn selected a fresh stick to whittle. Mr. Maginn, however, had one good chance recently to collect fees. The country around the town of Millburg is of limestone formation.
And General Trumps pranced along on a white horse ahead of the Millburg Guards. After them came the judges on foot, followed by the City Council and the employés of the gas-works, and the members of the Bible Society and Patriotic Sons of America. Then came citizens walking two and two, afoot, while a big crowd of men and boys brought up the rear.
The town stands, as has already been mentioned, on a high hill, at the foot of which there is a wonderful spring, and the belief has always been that the hill is full of great caves and fissures, through which the water makes its way to feed the spring. A year or two ago they organized a cemetery company at Millburg, and they located the graveyard upon the hill a short distance back of the town.
"Yes, certain." "Then, you miserable whelp, git out of here, or I'll kick the breath out of you. Come, now, git!" And he gave the dog a kick that sent him into the middle of the street, and then withdrew himself. The trade in dogs certainly is not active in Millburg. One day I met Mr. Butterwick in the street leading his dog with a chain.
But the doctor did not succeed with private practice in Millburg, and so one day he made up his mind to try to get out of poverty by inventing a patent medicine.
Fogg, indignantly, "if you think you can tell the story better than I can, why don't you tell it? You're enough to worry the life out of a man." Then Fogg slammed the door and went out, and I left. I don't know whether Bradley got the stakes or not. The people of Millburg feel a very intense interest in politics, and during a campaign there is always a good deal of excitement.
As soon as she was discovered the coroner held an inquest, and then put her on the cars again. This time she came directly to Millburg, and Mr. Banger was at the depot waiting for her with the funeral. By some mistake, however, she was carried past and put out at the next town above, and the agent said that the best thing he could do would be to have her brought down in the morning.
Some of the public officers of Millburg are interesting in their way. The civil service system of the village is based upon the principle that if there is any particular function that a given man is wholly unfitted to perform he should be chosen to perform it.
The other day a lightning-rod man drove up in front of a handsome edifice standing in the midst of trees and shrubs in Millburg, and spoke to Mr. Potts, who was sitting on the steps in front. He accosted Potts as the owner of the residence, and said, "I see you have no lightning-rods on this house." "No," said Potts. "Are you going to put any on?" "Well, I hadn't thought of it," replied Potts.
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