The Book of the Bush - Containing Many Truthful Sketches Of The Early Colonial - Life Of Squatters, Whalers, Convicts, Diggers, And Others - Who Left Their Native Land And Never Returned by George Dunderdale
page 75 of 391 (19%)
page 75 of 391 (19%)
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The boy said:
"He ain't a-coming to school no more, I calkilate. He was buried this morning before school hours." That year, '49 was a dismal year in Joliet. Mr. Rogers, one of the school managers, came and sat on a bench near the door. He was a New Englander, a carpenter, round-shouldered, tall and bony. He said: "I called in to tell you that I can't vote for appinting you to this school next term. Fact is the ladies are dead against you; don't see you at meeting on the Sabbath; say you go to the Catholic Church with the Irish and Dutch. I a'n't a word to say agen you myself. This is a free country; every man can go, for aught I care, whichever way he darn chooses--to heaven, or hell, or any other place. But I want to be peaceable, and I can't get no peace about voting for you next term, so I thought I'd let you know, that you mightn't be disappointed." In that way Mr. Rogers washed his hands of me. I said I was sorry I did not please the ladies, but I liked to hear a man who spoke his mind freely. Soon afterwards the Germans brought me word that the Yankees were calling a meeting about me. I was aware by this time that when a special gathering of citizens takes place to discuss the demerits of any individual, it is advisable for that individual to be absent if possible; but curiosity was strong within me; hitherto I had never |
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