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Updated: June 22, 2025
If we are to follow the biographer the whole way, we must not only unhang the dog, but give him sepulture amongst the sceptred Sovereigns who rule us from their urns. Thomas Paine was born at Thetford, in Norfolk, in January, 1737, and sailed for America in 1774, then being thirty-seven years of age. Up to this date he was a rank failure.
Paine glanced shrewdly at Halbert, of whose arrogant and quarrelsome disposition he had heard from his own son, and replied, "I make it a point not to interfere in boys' quarrels. William speaks very highly of Robert, and it affords him great satisfaction, I know, to leave the boat in his charge." Mrs. Davis saw that there was no use in pursuing the subject, and it dropped.
A general Congress of Delegates from all the Colonies having been proposed and agreed to, the House of Representatives, on the 17th of June, 1774, elected James Bowdoin, Thomas Cushing, Samuel Adams, John Adams, and Robert Treat Paine, delegates from Massachusetts.
Her next remark settled that question. "I suppose," she said, soberly, but with the same twinkle in her eye which I had observed once or twice in her father's, "that I should apologize for being here, on your property, Mr. Paine. I judge that you don't like trespassers." I was more nettled at Zeb and his crowd than ever. "So you saw that performance," I said. "I'm sorry."
The Boston Symphony has played the compositions of John Knowles Paine alone more than eighteen times, and those of George W. Chadwick the same number, while E.A. MacDowell and Arthur Foote each appeared on the programs fourteen times.
For this he was sometimes arrested, once by mistake for Adam Paine, who collected the crowd, and then left Matthias with it on the approach of the officers. He repeatedly urged his wife to accompany him on a mission to convert the world, declaring that food could be obtained from the roots of the forest, if not administered otherwise.
When I think what you saved us all from I I By the Almighty, Ros Paine! I'll make it up to you somehow. I will! I swear I will!" He turned away and looked out of the window. George laid a hand on his shoulder. "I am the one to make it up, Cap'n," he said, solemnly. "If I live I'll make it up to Ros here, and to you, and to Nellie, God bless her!
"Look at them fall!" exclaimed Chester, as through his glasses, he witnessed the last desperate attack of the French. "It's a terrible sight," agreed Hal, "and yet there will be many more just as terrible before this war is won." "Indeed there will," agreed Chester. "Lieutenant Crawford! Lieutenant Paine!" It was General Petain who spoke.
The story which he told, and which they continue to tell, is a curious jumble of the inventions which preceded it a sort of literary patchwork, without design or pattern, and a flimsy covering either for self-conceit or imposture. In this case the tale is, that, about September, 1793, Tom Paine, who was then a member of the National Convention, wrote to England to a Mrs.
The envelope was square, of an expensive quality, and eminently aristocratic. It was postmarked Denboro, dated that morning, and addressed in a sharp, clear masculine hand unfamiliar to me, to "Roscoe Paine, Esq." The "Esq." would have settled it, if the handwriting had not. No fellow-townsman of my acquaintance would address me, or any one else, as Esquire.
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