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Updated: June 19, 2025
This, I knew I had heard plenty of it was the lingo of thieves and what the story-writers call bandits though we never knew until years afterward that we had in Iowa a distinct class which we should have called bandits, but knew it not.
Having happily married my heroine and disposed of her lovers, it occurs to me that I have reached the place where story-writers usually make a big flourish, write "Finis," and then lay down the pen.
These people are not fools, and no matter how well I may act, they know of a surety that the whole prayer of my life is to part company with them." The conclusion reached by Jack was common sense, though the story-writers sometimes make it appear that the keen minded American Indian may be duped in that transparent fashion.
Canterbury was almost as old and probably in worse repair than it is now, when Frisco was still Brobdingnag. Can it be that the giant red trees and the tall bragging of the coast date from its heroic past? Story-writers have nearly always been the foes of maps, finding in them a kind of cramping of their mental legs.
"All I did was catch the ball and go ten yards with it. Nothing wonderful about that." "Still, it's all pretty much like the story-writers tell it, after all, eh? That's what struck me as funny." "Huh! It doesn't seem to me much like it is in the stories. Say, we forgot about the papers, Tom!" "What papers?"
Oh, human nature, you know! and human nature explains a lot of things which even story-writers have to give up.
It is fearfully easy to develop a taste for that kind of thing. As he grew older, the taste took root and became a habit. Ted came out after serving his term, still handsome, spite of all that story-writers may have taught to the contrary. But we'll make this concession to the old tradition. There was a difference. His radiant blondeur was dimmed in some intangible, elusive way.
But then comes the real trouble, the heavy anxiety, the illness, the loss; and those things, which looked so romantic in the pages of poets and the scenes of story-writers, turn out not to be romantic at all, but frankly and plainly disagreeable and intolerable things.
He has not, however, abandoned the profession he originally adopted, in spite of its many perils and dangers, and the fact that a sailor's life is not altogether of that rose-coloured nature which story-writers usually make out.
He reflected audibly that he guessed story-writers were out after money like the rest of the world which had to live by its wits: and that it was extraordinary how far people who were out after money would go. . . Some of them. Then he made a sally against sea life. Silly sort of life, he called it. No opportunities, no experience, no variety, nothing.
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