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Updated: July 2, 2025
The doctor had said of him, "a man living in the monastery of himself in our world, but not of it." "What amuses you, James?" asked his wife. This good sign of return to her normal curiosity was familiarly pleasant. "I was recalling, Ann, what McGregor said of Rivers after that horrid time of sickness at Westways. You may remember it." "No, I do not." "No!
"They fought it out, my dear, in his early days at Westways, and when they both found that they were clad in the armour of changeless beliefs no arguments could penetrate, they gave up and took of two fine natures what was left for life's uses and became friends. At least, that is how McGregor put it. He sometimes states things well."
He entered the shop. "Well, I never," exclaimed the preacher, as John went by him. The barber was laughing. "Set down, Mr. John." "I suppose the whole of Westways knows it, Mr. Josiah?" "They do, sir. Wish I'd seen it." "Damn!" exclaimed John, swearing for the first time in his life. "Cut my hair short, please, and don't talk." "No, sir. You ain't even got a scratch." "Oh, do shut up," said John.
John rose, went around the table to his uncle, and said in his finest manner, "I am greatly obliged, sir." "Oh, nonsense! He's rather fresh, take care." Then Leila said, "It's very hot, Uncle Jim." "You small fiend," said Penhallow. "Hot! On your way, John, tell those rascals at Westways they may use the pond."
His compositions seemed to Rivers childlike long after he showed notable competence in speech. "DEAR LEILA: It is very hard that you cannot write to me. We are all well here except Lucy, who is lame. It isn't very much. "Of course you have heard about our good old Josiah. Isn't that slave law wicked? Westways is angry and all turned round for Fremont. Mr.
Westways began to take itself seriously, as little towns will at times, and to ask how this man or that would vote at the coming election in November. The old farmers who from his youth still called the Squire "James" were Democrats.
Listen, sir what's that?" "Minute guns, Josiah. Have you heard the news?" "Yes, sir it's awful; but we are going home to Westways." As the trains went northward crowded with more or less damaged officers and men, John Penhallow in his faded engineer uniform showed signs of renewed vitality.
I shook hands with him and said, 'Where did you come from? He said, 'Saw your name, sir, in the paper and just quit my work. I'm goin' along with you I'm your servant. I've been thinkin' this long while I'd go back to Westways, but I've been doin' well here, and I just kep' a puttin' it off.
Lamb here for a few days, and some oh, some little luxuries ice and fresh milk." The Baptist did not like it. Was this to keep him in the way he had resolved not to go. "Thank you and her," he returned, and then added abruptly, "How are you meaning to vote, Squire?" "Oh, for Fremont," replied Penhallow, rather puzzled. "Well, that will be good news in Westways."
"John," he said, "you will oblige me by riding to the mill and asking Dr. McGregor to come to Westways and see old Josiah. Of course, he will charge it to me." The Squire was a little ashamed of this indirect confession of retreat. John looked up, hesitated a moment, and said, "What horse, sir?" "Dixy, of course." "Another cup, James," said Mrs. Ann tranquilly amused.
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