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Updated: June 6, 2025
"But what are you going to do?" "We are going to make him hoist the American flag on his house, or hang it out of his window." "Well, suppose he won't." "Then we'll hang him where the flag ought to be. We'll pull the house down over his head." "I'm with you, Jack," replied Thomas, with enthusiasm. "We won't have a traitor in Pinchbrook.
In ten days after parting with his father, the sergeant received a full and glowing account of the reception of Captain Somers, who became quite a lion in Pinchbrook for the time being.
They were singing Hail Columbia and the Star-spangled Banner. Thomas and John Somers were there. Presently the assemblage began to move up the road which led to Squire Pemberton's house, singing patriotic songs as they marched. It was a multitude of persons for Pinchbrook; and no doubt the obnoxious oracle thought so when he saw the sea of heads that surrounded his dwelling.
The more humane wife evidently understood the weak point of the squire, for nothing but slavery and the Southern Confederacy could have induced him to set at defiance the public sentiment of Pinchbrook. "Well, carry him up stairs then; but he never will get out of my house till he has been severely punished for his crimes."
If Tom had not been born in Pinchbrook, and had a home by the sea, where boating is an appreciated accomplishment, he would probably have been borne into the arms of the expectant rebel, or received in his vitals the ounce of cold lead which that gentleman's musket contained. As it was, he had the skill to do what he seemed not to be doing. Mr.
The steamer having arrived, the soldiers shook hands with their friends again, went on board, and, amid the hearty cheers of the citizens of Pinchbrook, were borne down the bay. Tom Somers felt that he was now a soldier indeed. While the company remained in Pinchbrook, he had slept every night in his own bed, and taken his meals in the kitchen of the little cottage.
Somers's brother, a feeble old man, a soldier in the war of 1812, and a pensioner of the government, had been a member of the family for twenty years; and was familiarly known in town as "Gran'ther Green." Having thus made our readers acquainted with Pinchbrook and the Somers family, we are prepared to continue our story. Thomas and John walked down to the Harbor together after dinner.
The boards were rotten, and I should think a man like you ought to have better cellar doors than those are." The squire didn't relish this criticism, especially from the source whence it came. There was a want of humility on the part of the culprit which the magnate of Pinchbrook thought would be exceedingly becoming in a young man in his situation.
The people in Pinchbrook said he was a good man, but, they used to add, with a shrug of the shoulders, "pity he drinks." It was a sad pity, but he seemed to have no power over his appetite. The allusion of Ben to his besetting sin was cruel and mortifying, for the old man had certainly tried to reform, and since the regiment left Boston, he had not tasted the intoxicating cup.
If they had stood on an equality, Tom would probably have suggested that the figures should be interpreted "over the left" an idiosyncrasy in language which he had imported from Pinchbrook, but which may not be wholly unintelligible to our young readers.
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