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Updated: June 8, 2025
As he went, I caught sight of a slight figure, a pair of jealous, worshipping eyes. Poor Strathay had seen the incident; had perhaps thought I took pains to be cordial to him, when he had made his way with Poultney to my side; and to Mr.
No, I hardly see them doing that. Pull up, cabby! This is evidently the undertaker's, for we have just passed the pawnbroker's. Would you go in, Watson? Your appearance inspires confidence. Ask what hour the Poultney Square funeral takes place to-morrow." The woman in the shop answered me without hesitation that it was to be at eight o'clock in the morning.
"I'm better satisfied than if we had done what we set out to do to that plebe," remarked Yearling Davis to his tentmates. "Mr. Prescott is a rather decent sort for a mere plebe," replied Poultney. "Do you know, I think he's almost glad that he caught the dummy we rigged for him. I believe the little beast would have hated to catch a uniform stuffed with human flesh."
He could read before he could speak plainly, and at the age of six he had declared that his purpose in life was to be a printer. At eleven he tried to be apprenticed at the village printing-office and was unsuccessful; at the age of fourteen he was taken on as an apprentice in the office of the Northern Spectator, at East Poultney, Vt.
It was already standing in the reign of Edward II. It belonged successively to Sir John Poultney; to John Holland, Duke of Exeter that Duke who was buried in St.
Lawrence, Poultney, belike. St. Mary's, Bush Lane, will be the next. Would I were there to see. I will to the roof of the house to obtain a better view. Zounds, but this is worth a hundred plagues! I had never thought to live to see London burned about my ears. What a noise the fire makes! It is like the rushing of a mighty flood. Oh, a flood of fire is a fine thing!"
"Where are you playing?" "I've never really played. Just practiced." "Then you ought to be with us. Where's Densmore? We'll put you up and have you in by the next meeting." "A reporter in The Retreat!" protested Kirke who had proffered the bet. "Why not?" snapped old Poultney Masters. "Got any objections?"
By it Banneker recognized Poultney Masters, Jr., the son and heir of the tyrannous old financier who had for years bullied and browbeaten New York to his wayward old heart's content. In his son there was nothing of the bully, but through the amiability of manner Banneker could feel a quiet force. Cressey introduced them. "We're just having coffee," said Banneker. "Will you join us?"
O'Neil's eyes photographed all this in a single surprised glance as he passed; the next moment he was mounting the steps to the porch. Dan flung open the door, but his words of greeting froze, his smile of welcome vanished at sight of his chief's forbidding visage. Murray was in no mood to waste words; he began roughly: "Did you tell Miss Gerard that Poultney Illis is backing me?" Dan stammered.
In a short time he became a general favorite, not only in the office, but in the town of Poultney, whose debating and literary societies soon recognized him as leader. Even the minister, the lawyer, and the school-teachers looked up to the poor, retiring young printer, who was a veritable encyclopedia of knowledge, ready at all times to speak or to write an essay on any subject.
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