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"The audience numbered sixty persons. "May, 1880. I have just finished Miss Peabody's account of Channing. I have been more interested in Miss Peabody than in Channing, and have felt how valuable she must have been to him. How many of Channing's sermons were instigated by her questions! ... Miss Peabody must have been very remarkable as a young woman to ask the questions which she asked at twenty.
The thing that caught my eye was a big silver watch hanging by a long golden chain to one of the boughs. Uncle Peabody took it down and held it aloft by the chain, so that none should miss the sight, saying: "From Santa Claus for Bart!" A murmur of admiration ran through the company which gathered around me as I held the treasure in my trembling hands.
"But it was my melon," I said with a trembling voice. "Yes and I vum it's too bad! But, Bart, you ain't learned yit that there are wicked people in the world who come and take what don't belong to 'em." There were tears in my eyes when I asked: "They'll bring it back, won't they?" "Never!" said Uncle Peabody, "I'm afraid they've et it up."
The memorial was signed by Francis Peabody, John Carleton, Jacob Barker, Nicholas West and Israel Perley on behalf of themselves and other disbanded officers. This memorial was submitted by Mr.
Who sells his honor sells his manhood and becomes simply a thing of meat and blood and bones a thing to be watched and driven and cudgelled like the ox for he has sold that he can not buy, not if all the riches in the world were his." A little silence followed the words. Then Uncle Peabody said: "That's the kind o' stuff in our granary. We've been reapin' it out o' the books Mr.
Barring an occasional exception, such an exclusive aim is not that of the man of large affairs, the business leader, the conspicuously successful man. It is not Harriman, nor Edison, nor Weinstock, nor Marshall Field, nor Peabody, nor is it the heads of our big corporations of to-day.
Instead, she had to stand helplessly by and watch the lad walk directly to the desk, where he put a question to the clerk. Instantly Joseph Peabody whirled and had the boy by the collar. "Got you at last, you young imp!" he chortled gleefully. "This time I don't calculate to let go of you till I land you where you're going behind the bars. That is, unless you hand over what you've got of mine!"
Winthrop gave a cry and fell upon the brakes. The cry was as full of pain as though he himself had been mangled. Miss Forbes saw only the man appear, and then disappear, but, Winthrop's shout of warning, and the wrench as the brakes locked, told her what had happened. She shut her eyes, and for an instant covered them with her hands. On the front seat Peabody clutched helplessly at the cushions.
Peabody and Stevens had ingeniously exploited Langdon at every possible opportunity in relation to the naval base. Asked about new developments in the committee on naval affairs, the ready answer was: "Better see Senator Langdon. He knows all about the naval base; has the matter in full charge. I really know little about it."
Her adventures as a "paying guest" in the Peabody household are fully related in the first book of the series, entitled "Betty Gordon at Bramble Farm," and a very exciting experience it was. In spite, however, of the disagreeable and miserly Joseph Peabody, Betty would not have missed her adventures at the farm for anything.
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