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Updated: June 28, 2025
He held fast to his land property, but some twenty years later, when the sandy acres had become a valuable possession, Samuel Ely sold his farm-lands to Messrs. Bowers and Mosher who surveyed and sold it as building lots and it is now known as Depot Hill. Mr. Ely retained through life the old farmhouse where he was born and reared and where he died in 1879.
In the second volume of this series, "The High School Boys In Summer Camp," our readers came upon an even more exciting narrative of keenly enjoyed summer doings, replete with lively adventures. In that volume the activities of Tag Mosher, a strangely odd character, kept Dick & Co. continually on the alert.
The shadows of the house tops and the lindens spread across the street and shut off gradually the flood of sunlight through the attic window. The Mosher four-year-old trotted past, just out of range, on his way towards home and an early supper. John wasted a few ineffectual peas on a pair of sparrows who began a pitched battle on one of the roof gutters. Sport lagged for a few minutes.
If someone has to go, let the other five draw." But Dick insisted that the draw should decide it all. "What's the matter?" asked Tom Reade shrewdly. "Have you found traces of Tag Mosher?" "I've seen him," Dick replied, "and talked with him. Come to think of it, I believe two fellows had better go. The two who are to go will be those who draw the shortest straws. All ready?"
Some, one mentioned Patsy, and Mosher spoke up: "Say, fellows, let's see that that little cuss does get into college. What do you say?" "I'll go you!" cried Fosgill. "He's an all-right kid, is Patsy, and he deserves something better than spending his life on the streets. We'll adopt him." "Sure thing," said Allen. "But we'll have our hands full. And what's to happen when we leave college?"
It was those mother-of-pearl buttons that captured Sara's imagination so that she loved and wept over the tintype until little Leo quite disappeared under the rust of her tears. Long after young Mosher, who loved his Talmud, had retired to sway over it, Sara could yearn at this tintype. Her sons in little knickerbockers that fastened to the waistband with large pearl buttons!
Instead, as best he could with his hands in the steel bracelets, he helped himself to a seat on the ground his back against a tree. Either he was extremely weary, or he was pretending cleverly. "Come! I guess you can talk better standing up," admonished Deputy Valden, seizing Tag by the coat collar and dragging him to his feet. Mosher accepted the implied order in sullen silence.
"Leave her in the skating house and come on," he called. "Red's got it and we're having heaps of fun." Skinny Mosher and Perry Alford came, both in pursuit of the fleet-footed Brown. "Let's see her skate," he sneered, knowing that Louise dared not release her escort for pursuit. "You're a fine teacher, you are. Don't you wish you were with us?" John's eyes followed him longingly as he skated off.
The latter turned, dug viciously in his pocket for ammunition, and fired a handful of cucumbers at his assailant without perceiving, in his blind rage, who it was. Yell after yell filled the air. "Now look what you've done," exclaimed Mosher miserably. "Just watch me catch it when he gets home."
Morris and myself are spending part of our time in preparing reading matter and pictures for the paper, and while we are working at the printing office of the Grimes Brothers on Wednesdays, Miss Spink, Miss Ethel Costello and their assistants, Miss Mosher, Miss Isabel McCormick, Miss Falvey, Miss Hegarty, Miss McCarthy, Miss Collins, Miss Cox, Miss Johnson, Miss Gilbert, and Miss Hazel McCormick are diligently at work in the Circulation Department.
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