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Updated: June 25, 2025
Just as the fire had gotten well started a large black snake fully a yard and a half long dropped down the chimney and ran out on the floor. Of course we at once abandoned that cabin. Finally we reached our destination a little town called Malden, which is about five miles from Charleston, the present capital of the state.
They were talking over their friendship, and she was flattering him upon his superiority to those country greenhorns who lived up here; she always knew he had city blood in him. Job was acting sillier than anybody would have dreamed Job Malden could act, in his evident pride at her flattery and the strange feelings which drew him to her.
"Seventy to-night, Job just to think of it! Twenty years more, perhaps, and then well, a coffin, I suppose, and six feet of ground and that's all," he said. Job wanted to say, "And heaven," but he did not dare. And then a thought startled him: Was this man, who had gained this world, ready for any other? For an hour Andrew Malden rambled on.
Malden read at family devotions, "All things work together for good to them that love God," he broke down in the prayer he tried to make, and rushed out of doors to hide the tears of joy that choked him, while he heard Tony singing as he went about his toil: "Oh, dar's glory, yes, dar is glory, Oh, dar is glory in my soul! Since I touched de hem of His garment, Oh, dar is glory in my soul."
Then I fled, dodging Emsy's legs. Confused voices followed me; Aunt Nickerson's full of a nameless horror; Mate Snow's, thundering: "Brother Hemans, you will please continue the meeting. I will go and see what I can do. But your prayers are needed here." Poor Minister Malden! His hour had struck the hour so long awaited and now it was Mate Snow who should go to answer it.
There was another scholar, Malden, who should have been mentioned with the group above; the second Sir Frederick Pollock, who wrote too little but left an excellent translation of Dante, besides some reminiscences and other work; Philip Pusey, elder brother of the theologian, and a man of remarkable ability; James Spedding, who devoted almost the whole of his literary life to the study, championship, and editing of Bacon, but left other essays and reviews of great merit; Twisleton, who undertook with singular patience and shrewdness the solution of literary and historical problems like the Junius question and that of the African martyrs; and lastly George Stovin Venables, who for some five and thirty years was the main pillar in political writing of the Saturday Review, was a parliamentary lawyer of great diligence and success, and combined a singularly exact and wide knowledge of books and men in politics and literature with a keen judgment, an admirably forcible if somewhat mannered style, a disposition far more kindly than the world was apt to credit him with, and a famous power of conversation.
Or, perhaps, it wasn't so strange, when one remembered Minister Malden coming down the years with that light in his eyes, building his slow edifice, like one in Israel prophesying the coming of the Messiah. I shall never forget the picture I saw that night from the deck of the Chinaman's scow.
The reduction of Malden might therefore secure Detroit, by depriving the enemy of a base suitable for using his lake power against its communications. Unless this was accomplished, any advance beyond Detroit with the force then at hand merely weakened that place, by just the amount of men and means expended, and was increasingly hazardous when it entailed crossing water.
He deliberately decided against a political career. Even if the exigencies of the moment had not tended to forbid the flight of his ambition in this direction, there were other reasons against it. He was a school commissioner in Malden, faithfully attending to the details of his duty during two years. The report of his work was given in a pamphlet.
In short, when Detroit was reached, barring the chance of a coup de main upon Malden, Hull's position needed to be made more solid, not more extensive. As it was, the army remained at Sandwich, making abortive movements toward the river Canard, which covered the approach to Malden, and pushing small foraging parties up the valley of the Thames.
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