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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Eben Holden, a tale of the north country"

Then he threw his coat in a chair and wiped his eyes
with his handkerchief.
'Well! God bless you, my boy,' he said. 'I wish I could go, too.'

Chapter 38
I worked some weeks before my regiment was sent forward. I
planned to be at home for a day, but they needed me on the staff,
and I dreaded the pain of a parting, the gravity of which my return
would serve only to accentuate. So I wrote them a cheerful letter,
and kept at work. It was my duty to interview some of the great
men of that day as to the course of the government. I remember
Commodore Vanderbilt came down to see me in shirt-sleeves and
slippers that afternoon, with a handkerchief tied about his neck in
place of a collar - a blunt man, of simple manners and a big heart,
one who spoke his mind in good, plain talk, and, I suppose, he got
along with as little profanity as possible, considering his many
cares. He called me 'boy' and spoke of a certain public man as a
'big sucker'. I soon learned that to him a 'sucker' was the lowest
and meanest thing in the world.


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