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Updated: May 21, 2025
The Deacon's one-horse, two-wheeled "shay" could hold three persons, with comfort on its broad seat, and the twenty-year-old mare, although she was always as hollow as a gourd, could generally do the mile, uphill all the way, in half an hour, if urged continually, and the Deacon, be it said, if not good at feeding, was unsurpassed at urging.
Here he was, long crowded years of conflict and experience behind him, and yet this twenty-year-old girl, with her incisive mind and keen tastes, was apparently as wise in matters of general import as himself. He could find no flaw in her armor in those matters which they could discuss.
"The fact is, I've sometimes been mighty sorry I jined any other lodge; for makin' honorable exception, the other churches don't know the diff'r'nce betwixt twenty-year-old Lincoln County an' Michigan pine-top. "The Hard-shells was the fust church I jined, as I sed. I hadn't sampled none of the others" he whispered aside "an' I didn't know there was any better licker in the jug.
"A man of your stamp will not be surprised by the question which I am about to ask?" "Indeed, my son, you do not know me," said Carlos Herrera. "Do you suppose that I should engage a secretary unless I knew that I could depend upon his principles sufficiently to be sure that he would not rob me? I like you. You are as innocent in every way as a twenty-year-old suicide. Your question?"
"By that time I had completed my education at the academy, received the gold medal, and with it the joyful hope of a journey to Italy the fairest dream of a twenty-year-old artist. It only remained for me to take leave of my father, from whom I had been separated for twelve years. I confess that even his image had long faded from my memory.
Would you believe it, a lady of my acquaintance, aged forty-two, recognized herself in the twenty-year-old heroine of my story, "The Grasshopper" and all Moscow is accusing me of libelling her. The chief proof is the external likeness. The lady paints, her husband is a doctor, and she is living with an artist. I can't endure such stories. I write it as it were by accident, thoughtlessly.
"I don't know Him myself." Lorand turned from him with a distressed air. Topándy remarked it. "My dear boy, my dear twenty-year-old child, probably you know more than I do; if you know Him, I beg you to teach me." Lorand shrugged his shoulders, then began to discuss scientific subjects. "Does Dollond's telescope show stars in the Milky Way?"
He was what we Russians call a "hero," and while his father was pondering the parturition of beasts, his, the son's, lusty, twenty-year-old temperament was violently struggling for development. Yet that son could tackle nothing without some accident occurring.
Milton, his twenty-year-old son, was just driving out of the yard, seated in a fine new cutter, drawn by a magnificent gray four-year-old colt. He drew up as Mr. Jennings spoke. "Now be sure and don't never leave him a minute untied. And see that the harness is all right. Do you hear, Milton?"
And this man of complete self-command, who has every form of noble pride, gets cajoled like a twenty-year-old yahoo at college! Do you imagine it?
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