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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Eben Holden, a tale of the north country"

I always crept under the bed in Mrs Brower's room
when Abe came - he was such a terror to me with his bloody work
and noisy oaths. Such men were the curse of the cleanly homes in
that country. There was much to shock the ears and eyes of
children in the life of the farm. It was a fashion among the help to
decorate their speech with profanity for the mere sound of it' and
the foul mouthings of low-minded men spread like a pestilence in
the fields.
Abe came always with an old bay horse and a rickety buckboard.
His one foot on the dash, as he rode, gave the picture a dare-devil
finish. The lash of his bull-whip sang around him, and his great
voice sent its blasts of noise ahead. When we heard a fearful yell
and rumble in the distance, we knew Abe was coming.
'Abe he come,' said Grandma Bisnette. 'Mon Dieu! he make de
leetle rock fly.'
It was like the coming of a locomotive with roar of wheel and
whistle. In my childhood, as soon as I saw the cloud of dust, I put
for the bed and from its friendly cover would peek out' often, but
never venture far until the man of blood had gone.


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