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Updated: May 7, 2025
Where I least expected them, I have encountered shapes of evil; while, on the other hand, I have found beautiful, heroic love and self-denial in those who had seemed to me frivolous and selfish." So would Dr. Singletary discourse as we strolled over Blueberry Hill, or drove along the narrow willow-shaded road which follows the windings of the river.
These provisions were being duly followed when on a December morning in 1837 Rebecca Rhame, the remarried widow of Broad's late brother-in-law, descended upon the Broad plantation in a buggy with John J. Singletary whom she had employed for the occasion under power of attorney.
Take you up in a minute, but not before I've had a good look at you." Kellogg found himself a chair. "Well," he inquired, twinkling, "how's the scheme working out? Are you really living up to all the rules?" "Every singletary one." "You have got a strong constitution.... Even prayer-meetings?" "The church thing? Honest, Harry, I own it." "Bully for you, Nat. But how does it work? Was I right?"
Westward, the broad, clear river winds away into a maze of jutting bluffs and picturesque wooded headlands. The tall, white stone on the westerly slope of the hill bears the name of "Nicholas Singletary, M. D.," and marks the spot which he selected many years before his death.
For him the dark curtain has been lifted. The weaknesses, the follies, and the repulsive mental and personal idiosyncrasies which may have kept him without the sphere of our respect and sympathy have now fallen off, and he stands radiant with the transfiguration of eternity, God's child, our recognized and acknowledged brother. Dr. Singletary is dead.
He smoked his pipe and dozed over his newspaper as complacently as ever, while his sins of omission and commission were arrayed against him. Peewawkin had always the reputation of a healthy town: and if it had been otherwise, Dr. Singletary was the last man in the world to transmute the aches and ails of its inhabitants into gold for his own pocket.
Let nobody infer from what I have said that the good man died unlamented; for, indeed, it was a sad day with his neighbors when the news, long expected, ran at last from house to house and from workshop to workshop, "Dr. Singletary is dead!" He had not any enemy left among them; in one way or another he had been the friend and benefactor of all.
'Well, said I, 'that debt's paid; but there's one debt we can never pay as long as we live. 'I know it, says she; 'but Dr. Singletary wants no better reward for his kindness than to see us live happily together, and do for others what he has done for us." "Pshaw!" said the Doctor, catching up his reins and whip. "You owe me nothing. But I must not forget my errand.
Singletary, as a man born to our common inheritance of joy and sorrow, earthly instincts and heavenward aspirations, our brother in sin and suffering, wisdom and folly, love, and pride, and vanity, has a claim upon the universal sympathy. Besides, whatever the living man may have been, death has now invested him with its great solemnity. He is with the immortals.
"These lawyers," said Amos Singletary, "and men of learning, and moneyed men that talk so finely and gloss over matters so smoothly, to make us poor illiterate people swallow the pill, expect to get into Congress themselves. They mean to be managers of the Constitution. They mean to get all the money into their hands, and then they will swallow up us little folk, like the great Leviathan, Mr.
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