SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 349 | Next

Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Eben Holden, a tale of the north country"


Stopping presently he looked down at a little waif asleep in a
doorway, a bundle of evening papers under his arm. He lifted him
tenderly.
'Here, boy,' he said, dropping corns in the pocket of the ragged
little coat, 'I'll take those papers - you go home now.
We walked to the river, passing few save members of 'the force ,
who always gave Trumbull a cheery 'hello, Cap!' We passed
wharves where the great sea horses lay stalled, with harnesses
hung high above them, their noses nodding over our heads; we
stood awhile looking up at the looming masts, the lights of the
river craft.
'Guess I've done some good,' said he turning into Peck Slip. 'Saved
two young women. Took 'em off the streets. Fine women now both
of them - respectable, prosperous, and one is beautiful. Man who s
got a mother, or a sister, can't help feeling sorry for such people.
We came up Frankfort to William Street where we shook hands
and parted and I turned up Monkey Hill. I had made unexpected
progress with Trumbull that night.


Pages:
337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361