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Updated: June 17, 2025
And then we disbanded and started off home but I'll bet that each one on us, in a sort of secret unbeknown way, gin a look on that lofty ceilin', them dangerus barells, and that pile of paper, and groaned a low melancholy groan all to herself. I know I did, and I know Submit Tewksbury did, for I stood close to her and heard her.
Wood , that he was the son of William Cartwright, and born at Northway, near Tewksbury in Gloucestershire in September 1611, that his father had dissipated a fair inheritance he knew not how, and as his last refuge turned inn-keeper at Cirencester; when living in competence, he procured his son, a youth of a promising genius, to be educated under Mr.
Then came G.S. Sixby and J. Church from California. There followed Ed. Rose, J.D. Tewksbury and sons, the Graham family and James Stinson, the last from Snowflake. Sixby is renowned as the hero of a wonderful experience in the spring of 1882, when, his brother and an employee killed, he held the fort of his log home against more than 100 Indians, the same band later fought and captured by Capt.
It wuz jest as interestin' to walk through that village as it would be to go to Egypt, and more so for we felt considerable safer right under Uncle Sam's right arm, as it wuz for here we wuz way off in Africa, amongst their minarets and shops, and tents, men, wimmen, and children in their strange garbs, dancin', playin' music, cookin' and servin' their food, jest as though they wuz to hum, and we wuz neighborin' with 'em, jest as nateral as we neighbor to hum with Sister Henzy or she that wuz Submit Tewksbury.
One fine morning, not long ago, I strolled down the Merrimac, on the Tewksbury shore. I know of no walk in the vicinity of Lowell so inviting as that along the margin of the river for nearly a mile from the village of Belvidere. The path winds, green and flower-skirted, among beeches and oaks, through whose boughs you catch glimpses of waters sparkling and dashing below.
That very night as Submit Tewksbury sat alone at her supper table, a-lookin' at that vacent spot on the table-cloth opposite to her, where the plate laid for Samuel Danher had set for over twenty years, she heard a knock at the door, and she got up hasty and wiped away her tears and opened the door. A man stood there in the cold a-lookin' into the warm cosy little room.
Uncle Ethan and the cases of medicine disappeared, and the old woman addressed her concluding remarks to little Tewksbury, her grandson, who stood timidly on one leg in the doorway, like an intruding pullet. "Everything around this place 'ud go to rack an' ruin if I didn't keep a watch on that soft-pated old dummy.
Beside his place lay a lengthy, close-written letter, and from time to time, as he ate his canned pears, his hand turned over one of its many sheets. "It's from Eben Wheeler, says he's been considerably troubled with asthma," he observed presently. "His mother was a Bumpus, a daughter of Caleb-descended from Robert, who went from Dolton to Tewksbury in 1816, and fought in the war of 1812.
Julia knows, she knows in her heart, what she said that provoked me! She does nothing but grumble about the work, and how few dresses we have, and what a drudge she is, and what common neighbors we have, and how Miss Tewksbury would pity her if she knew all, and how Uncle Allan would suffer if he could see his daughter living such a life!
Little snow fly, a speck on a measureless expanse, crawling along with painful breathing and slipping, sliding steps- "Gittin' home to Ripley an' the boy." Ripley was out to the barn when she entered, but Tewksbury was building a fire in the old cookstove. He sprang up with a cry of joy and ran to her.
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