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Updated: June 6, 2025
They went out into the open air together. The sun was very brilliant and warm. The eaves were running briskly. The sky was gentle, beautiful, and spring-like. The fact that he was in Washington came upon Bradley again, as he saw the soaring dome of the capitol at the head of the avenue. "What you want to do is to get on good social terms with the so-called leaders," Radbourn was saying.
Radbourn pointed out the Pension Office, the White House, the Treasury, and other principal buildings with a searching word upon their architecture. The monument, he evidently considered, required no comment. As they entered the dome, they passed a group of men whose brisk, bluff talk and peculiar swagger indicated their character legislators from small country towns.
He thought it would please Her better. He joined the Delta, over which Radbourn presided, and wore the society pin with genuine pride. He sat for several meetings silently in his seat, awed by the excessive formality of proceedings, and the strictness of the parliamentary rules.
"Certainly; come right into this room. No one will disturb us there." "Now, what can I do for you?" he said, as they sat down. "I want to talk with you about about religion," said Pill, with a little timid pause in his voice. Radbourn looked grave. "I'm afraid you've come to a dangerous man." "I want you to tell me what you think. I know you're a student.
Standing for two or three hours in his place night after night, arguing, pleading, but mainly commanding them to be saved. Milton was describing the scenes of the meeting to Bradley Talcott and Douglas Radbourn the next day, and Radbourn, a young law student said: "I'd like to see him. He must be a character." "Let's make up a party and go out," said Milton, eagerly.
His small gray eyes were like daggers unsheathed, and his small, round head took on a cat-like ferocity, as he strode to and fro, hurling out his warnings and commands in a hoarse howl that terrified the sinner, and drew "amens" of admiration from the saints. "Atavism; he has gone back to the era of the medicine man," Radbourn murmured.
"Yes, yes, I know," said Lily; a look of deeper pain swept over her face. "And the fate of the poor women; oh, the fate of the women!" "Yes, it's a matter of statistics," went on Radbourn, pitilessly, "that the wives of the American farmers fill our insane asylums. See what a life they lead, most of them; no music, no books. Seventeen hours a day in a couple of small rooms dens.
"I see. How much do you need?" mused Radbourn. "I guess two hundred would stave off the worst of them." "I guess Brown and I can fix that. Come in again to-night. Or no, I'll bring it round to you." The two men parted with a silent pressure of the hand that meant more than any words. When Mr.
I want to talk about my case," pursued the preacher, with a curious hesitancy. "I want to ask a few questions on things." "Very well; sail in. I'll do the best I can," said Radbourn. "I've been thinking a good deal since that night. I've come to the conclusion that I don't believe what I've been preaching. I thought I did, but I didn't. I don't know what I believe.
Radbourn let the reins fall slack as he talked on. He did not look at the girl; his eyebrows were drawn into a look of gloomy pain. "It isn't so much the grime that I abhor, nor the labor that crooks their backs and makes their hands bludgeons. It's the horrible waste of life involved in it all.
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