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Updated: June 12, 2025
This story is the great exception. It has to do with an actual, material, visible and large-as-life camel's back. Starting from the neck we shall work tailward. Meet Mr. Perry Parkhurst, twenty-eight, lawyer, native of Toledo. Perry has nice teeth, a Harvard education, and parts his hair in the middle. You have met him before in Cleveland, Portland, St.
Visit to the South. Preaching in Various Places. We get a few brief glimpses of Emerson during the years following his graduation. He writes in 1823 to a classmate who had gone from Harvard to Andover: "I am delighted to hear there is such a profound studying of German and Hebrew, Parkhurst and Jahn, and such other names as the memory aches to think of, on foot at Andover.
"Yes, a measure you know two fingers of whiskey." "Oh, a 'gill," said Bray. "That's what I said, young man," returned Parkhurst gravely. Bray choked back a hysterical laugh; spelling was notoriously not one of Parkhurst's strong points. "But what has a 'gill' got to do with it?" he asked quickly. "It's one of them Sphinx things, don't you see? A sort of riddle or rebus, you know.
At noon over to the Leg, where Sir G. Ascue, Sir Robt. Parkhurst and Sir W. Pen dined. A good dinner and merry.
A Kansas M.D. has succeeded in hiving the old-age microbe, and is now treating the ballet girls whom Weis & Greenwall and Rigsby & Walker will bring South next winter, while a New York empiric has discovered the insanity insect and is fumigating the brain of the Rev. Mr. Parkhurst.
One day the gig and cutter had proceeded farther than usual; they had started at daybreak, and had turned off into what seemed a very small creek, that had hitherto been unexplored, as from the width of its mouth it was supposed to extend but a short distance into the forest. The master's mate was in command of one boat, the second lieutenant of the other; Harry Parkhurst accompanied the latter.
To be one of the picked "fifteen," whose glory it was to fight the battles of their school in the Great Close, had been the leading ambition of my life I suppose I ought to be ashamed to confess it ever since, as a little chap of ten, I entered Parkhurst six years ago.
At the end of eighteen minutes Perry Parkhurst, torn by pride and suspicion and urged on by injured dignity, put on his long fur coat, picked up his light brown soft hat and stalked out the door. "It's all over," he muttered brokenly as he tried to jam his car into first. "It's all over if I have to choke you for an hour, darn you!"
'Oh, no, he said, 'he likes to hear preaching because he has an active mind, and the way that things are spread out in front of him. In the old days of the church a sermon used to convert 3,000 men, now that temperature is down it takes 3,000 sermons to convert one man." Charles H. Parkhurst. To-day there has sprung up a rivalry between brain and heart. Men are coming to idolize intellect.
That singular gravity and reticence, so often observed in miners at these crises, had come over them as they sat that night for the last time around their old camp-fire on the Eureka ledge, when Parkhurst turned impulsively to Bray. "Roll over here," he said in a whisper. "I want to tell ye suthin!"
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