When Wilderness Was King - A Tale of the Illinois Country by Randall Parrish
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page 27 of 326 (08%)
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Villiers de Croix. It may not seem much, yet I pledge you that kings
have valued it ere now." It was a form of introduction most unfamiliar to me, and seemed bristling with audacity and conceit; but I recognized the heartiness of his purpose, and hastened to make fit response. "I meet you with much pleasure," I answered, accepting the proffered hand. "I am John Wayland." The graceful recklessness of the fellow, so conspicuous in each word and action, strongly attracted me. I confess I liked him from his first utterance, although mentally, and perhaps morally as well, no two men of our age could possibly be more unlike. "Wayland?" he mused, with a shrug, as if the sound of the word was unpleasant. "Wayland?--'t is a harsh name to my ears, yet I have heard it mentioned before in England as that of a great family. You are English, then?" I shook my head emphatically; for the old wounds of controversy and battle were then being opened afresh, and the feeling of antagonism ran especially high along the border. "I am of this country," I protested with earnestness, "and we call ourselves Americans." He laughed easily, evidently no little amused at my retort, twisting his small mustache through his slender fingers as he eyed me. |
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