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Updated: May 31, 2025
It was one of perfect courtesy and good nature void of all suspicion. "We were sitting down in the sailboat maker's place at Noank the other day, and I asked a half dozen of the old fellows whether they had ever known a contented man. They all thought a while, and then they said they had. Old Mr. Main and the rest of them agreed that Charlie Potter was a contented man.
Palmer was the owner of a small shipyard here at the time, a thing which was not much at first but which grew swiftly. He was born in Noank also, a few years before Burridge, and as a builder of vessels had been slowly forging his way to a moderate competence when Elihu was already successful.
She was once owned at Noank, Connecticut, afterward in New Bedford and when Captain Eben Pierce presented her to me, at the end of her natural life, she stood, as I have already described, propped up in a field at Fairhaven. Her lines were supposed to be those of a North Sea fisherman.
I used to know her in Noank, and she thought if she could get to see me she would feel better. "I didn't have any money at the time, but that didn't make any difference. "'Lord, I said, 'here's a woman sick in Maiden, and she wants me to come to her. I haven't got any money, but I'll go right down to the depot, in time to catch a certain train, and I went.
I'll work and earn them food. I'll give them anything I can that's what I do." "How can you give when you haven't anything? They told me in Noank that you never worked for money." "Not for myself alone. I never take any money for myself alone. That would be self-seeking. Anything I earn or take is for the Lord, not me. I never keep it. The Lord doesn't allow a man to be self-seeking."
Two inches of a spotted, soft-brimmed hat were pulled carelessly over his eyes. His face was round and full, but slightly seamed. His hands were large, his walk uneven, and rather inclined to a side swing, or the sailor's roll. He seemed an odd, pudgy person for so large a fame. "Is this Mr. Potter?" "I'm the man." "I live on a little hummock at the east of Mystic Island, off Noank." "You do?"
The fish becomes furious at the appearance of sharks, which are its natural enemies. They engage in violent combats, and when the spear-fish is attached to the fisherman's line it often receives frightful wounds from the adversaries. The spear-fish strikes vessels in the same manner as the swordfish. I am indebted to Capt. William Spicer, of Noank, Connecticut, for this note: Mr.
Has it yet, so they say." Days passed and as the summer waned the evidences of a peculiar life accumulated. Noank, apparently, was at outs with Burridge on the subject of religion, and he with it. There were instances of genuine hard feeling against him. Writing a letter in the Postoffice one day I ventured to take up this matter with the postmaster. "You know Mr. Burridge, don't you the grocer?"
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