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Updated: June 18, 2025
"No, man," Dennis said, "it was a hat on a man's head ole Meshach Milburn's steeple-top. I was a follerin' of him." "Stow your wid!" the man clapped the hat back on Levin's head. "You're a poor hobb, anyhow. Is thair any niggers to sell hereby?" "Oh, that's your trade, nigger buyin'? Well, there's mighty few niggers to sell in Prencess Anne.
At the corner of old Front Street, and extending almost out upon the little Manokin bridge, stood Meshach Milburn's two-story house and store, with a door upon both streets. Though planted low, in a hollow, it stood forward like Milburn's challenging countenance, unsupported by any neighbors. "Don't it look like a witch's, Missy?"
But while we think him mistaken in his diagnosis, we cannot but commend the good sense and manliness of his course of treatment. Bating the egotism unavoidable in a work of the sort, the style of Mr. Milburn's book is agreeable, and the anecdotes of various kinds with which it abounds render it very amusing.
This Hat had long ceased to be external: it was worn on Milburn's heart and stifled the healthy throbbing there. It made two men of him, the outer and the household man, and, like the Corsican brothers, they were ever conscious of each other, and a word to one aroused the other's clairvoyant sensibility.
"Glory to God!" suddenly exclaimed Grandmother Tilghman, who seemed to see without sight all that was going on. "I knew it would be so, if both would wait," sighed Rhoda to her husband, through her tears. There was still something on Milburn's mind, though he was unable to explain it.
"Yet, like Raleigh, I see the scaffold," said Vesta, with an attempt at humor that for the first time broke her down, and she raised her hands to her face to hush the burst of anguish. It would not be repressed, and one low cry, deep with the sense of desertion and captivity, sounded through the deepening room and smote Milburn's innermost heart.
"The inquirer," said Meshach, "who had obtained my address in the course of business, related, that after Milburn's death his brethren and their families had sailed to the Chesapeake, where the Protestants had successfully revolutionized for King William, and, making choice of poor lands, they had become obscure. He asked me if the court-house records made any registry of their wills."
I am deaf to sentiments of honor and courtesy, if they let you slip me! Give yourself to me, and these better angels may prevail, being perhaps accessory to the mighty instinct I obey at the command of the Creator!" As he proceeded, Vesta saw shine in Meshach Milburn's face the very ecstacy of love.
She supplied it in ten minutes by reminding him of their wisdom in keeping the secret of their relations. His engagement to the daughter of a prominent Conservative would not indeed have told in his favour with his party, to say nothing of the anomaly of Mr Milburn's unyielding opposition to the new policy.
"I feel sure you would do that, Farquarson, as you were always a good story-teller." This encouraging flattery switched his mind with eager interest on to a subject quite irrelevant to the one which had engaged their attention so long. "Yes," said he, with a self-satisfied smile, "that's true. But talking about yarns, you remember when I was with Milburn's, running to Hamburg?
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