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Updated: May 13, 2025
She would at this moment have been standing inside her little counter at the Golden Eagle, selling cigars to some brakeman or cowboy. Ed Winchell would be coming to ask her, as usual, to marry him, and her mother would still be toiling in the hot kitchen or be at rest in her grave. Did ever Aladdin's lamp translate its owner farther or lift him higher?
She was still plump. Her neck in her low-cut gown was lovely. Her figure was not fashionable, and she lacked Amy's look of race. "They are all charming," Molly Winchell said. "Why don't you marry one of them, Murray?" "Marriage," said Murray, "would spoil it." "Spoil what?" Murray turned on her his fine dark eyes. "They are such darlings the three of them." "You Turk!"
Majority Report submitted to Trustees of Cornell University on Mr. Sage's proposal to endow a college for women. February 13, 1872. Chancellor Winchell, of Syracuse University, makes this statement: "It is not pertinent to the question for us to inquire whether the pursuit of the higher studies be compatible with the health of woman. She is to be her own judge in that respect.
Then Ethel had come along. She had not fitted in with the diamonds and portraits and silver, but she had stirred his pulses. "Anywhere else but in Georgetown," old Molly Winchell was saying, "those girls would have been snapped up long ago. It's a poor matrimonial market." Murray was complacently aware that he was geographically the only eligible man on the Merryman horizon.
Then we would walk in and out of the cold and gloom of the church after having stared the picture into vividness. During my morning work my friendship with Mrs. Winchell ripened rapidly. We had an excellent start in the circumstance that we were Americans. We knew of cities, of some people in common. Abigail had come from Connecticut and that, in a sense, laid a foundation for our conversations.
He had tact enough to take his dismissal without another word or glance, and after he had gone she still stood there in the same rigid pose, but her face was softer and clouded with serious meditation. It was wonderful to think of this rich and powerful man changing his whole life for her. Winchell, the young barber, came in hurriedly, his face full of accusation and alarm.
Winchell and I set off together with Serafino to explore museums, visit the Palatine, drive to the edge of the city where the Alban hills were plainer across the Campagna, as level as a prairie around Jacksonville. I was struggling with Italian, carrying on such conversation as I could with Serafino, and with Mrs. Winchell, who was growing proficient in the language.
"Yeh," said Roll Winchell, the marshal, gloomily, "them high-toned Eastern crooks always comin' out here thinkin' they'll find the Coast a soft snap."
Besides these were such well-known professors as Fasquelle in modern literature; Williams, Douglass, and Winchell in science; Boise in Greek; Palmer, Sager, and Gunn in medicine and surgery; Campbell and Walker in law. Of these Judge Campbell was to me one of the main attractions of the place a profound lawyer, yet with a kindly humor which lighted up all about him.
"I can generally have a little fun with a drunken man," said Winchell, "but it is no go in this case." "I suppose you know what ails the man who just went out?" said the "gentlemanly host." "I perceive he is alarmingly inebriated," said Winchell; "does anything else ail him?" "Yes," said the host, "HE'S DEAF AND DUMB!" This was true.
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