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Updated: May 19, 2025
I was scared, but a man says: "He don't mean nothing; he's always a-carryin' on like that when he's drunk. He's the best naturedest old fool in Arkansaw never hurt nobody, drunk nor sober." Boggs rode up before the biggest store in town, and bent his head down so he could see under the curtain of the awning and yells: "Come out here, Sherburn! Come out and meet the man you've swindled.
Everybody that could get a chance at him tried their best to coax him off of his horse so they could lock him up and get him sober; but it warn't no use up the street he would tear again, and give Sherburn another cussing. By and by somebody says: "Go for his daughter! quick, go for his daughter; sometimes he'll listen to her. If anybody can persuade him, she can." So somebody started on a run.
Soon after that, Prince George, the Duke of Ormond, and Lord Drumlanerick, the Duke of Queensbury's eldest son, left him and came over to the Prince, and joined him when he was come as far as the Earl of Bristol's house at Sherburn.
A soldier who in bravado mounted the rampart and stood there for a moment, was shot dead with five bullets. The men on both sides called to each other in scraps of bad French or broken English; while the French drank ironical healths to the New England men, and gave them bantering invitations to breakfast. Sherburn continues his diary. "Sunday morning.
I looked over there to see who said it, and it was that Colonel Sherburn. He was standing perfectly still in the street, and had a pistol raised in his right hand not aiming it, but holding it out with the barrel tilted up towards the sky. The same second I see a young girl coming on the run, and two men with her.
Sherburn never said a word just stood there, looking down. The stillness was awful creepy and uncomfortable. Sherburn run his eye slow along the crowd; and wherever it struck the people tried a little to out-gaze him, but they couldn't; they dropped their eyes and looked sneaky.
The crowd closed up around them, and shouldered and jammed one another, with their necks stretched, trying to see, and people on the inside trying to shove them back and shouting, "Back, back! give him air, give him air!" Colonel Sherburn he tossed his pistol on to the ground, and turned around on his heels and walked off.
"The heavenly shower was over," he sadly exclaims; "from fighting the devil they must turn to fighting the French." Pepperrell, always inclined to the clergy, and now in great perplexity and doubt, asked his guest Whitefield whether or not he had better accept the command. Henry Sherburn, commissary of the New Hampshire regiment, begged Whitefield to furnish a motto for the flag.
The crowd closed up around them, and shouldered and jammed one another, with their necks stretched, trying to see, and people on the inside trying to shove them back and shouting, "Back, back! give him air, give him air!" Colonel Sherburn he tossed his pistol on to the ground, and turned around on his heels and walked off.
Cap'n Eb he got the minister o' Sherburn and one o' the selectmen down to see him; and they took his deposition. He seemed railly quite penitent; and Parson Carryl he prayed with him, and was faithful in settin' home the providence to his soul: and so, at the eleventh hour, poor old Cack might have got in; at least it looks a leetle like it. He was distressed to think he couldn't live to be hung.
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