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Broadway (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 31
His person and countenance Phrenological developments his rustic manners town Eccentricities Horace Greeley in Broadway—Horatius at church Horace Greeley at home. Horace Greeley stands five feet ten and a half inches, in his stockings. ns contain one or more—always one—of the eccentric sort. It is a way large towns have. I have seen Horace Greeley in Broadway on Sunday morning with a hole in his elbow and straws clinging to his hat. I have seen him asleep while Alboni was singiple in general are shabbiest. Horatius is no such person. No fine gentleman could be brought on any terms to appear in Broadway in the rig he wore on this occasion. My eye was first caught by his boots, which were coarse, large and heavy, such as deed in a naughty world. The service over, he lingers not a moment, and I catch my last glimpse of him as he posts down Broadway toward the Tribune office, the white coat-tails streaming behind him, his head thrust forward into the future, his body <
Trinity (Texas, United States) (search for this): chapter 31
adway, from Grace Church to the Battery, is fringed on both sides with a procession of bright-colored fellow-creatures moving with less than their usual languor, in the hope of not being too late at church. The steps of the crowd, I observe, for the first time, are audible; for, no profane vehicle, no omnibus, cart, hack, or wagon, drowns all other noises in their ceaseless thunder. Only a private carriage rolls along occasionally, laden with a family of the uppermost thousand, bound for Trinity or St. George's, or the Brick Chapel, where Dr. Spring discourses of First Things to First Things. It is possible now, and safe, for the admiring stranger, your affectionate brother, to stand in the middle of the street, and to discover that it is perfectly straight, from the rising ground above the Park to where the tall, white spire of Grace Church, so strikingly terminates the beautiful promenade—a feat which no man hath been able to accomplish on a week-day these thirty years. The sun
Goshen (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 31
, hung it up in the hall, and looking into the parlor, said: Just let me run up and see my babies one minute; I have n't seen 'em all day, you know; and he sprung up the stairs two steps at a time. I heard him talk in high glee to the children in the room above, for just one minute, and then he re joined me. He began to talk something in this style: Sit down. I have had a rough day of it—eaten nothing since breakfast—just got in from my farm—been up the country lecturing —started from Goshen this morning at five—broke down—crossed the river on the ice—had a hard time of it—ice a good deal broken and quite dangerous—lost the cars on this side—went dogging around to hire a conveyance—got to Sing Sing—went over to my farm and transacted my business there as well as I could in the time—started for the city, and as luck would have it, they had taken off the four o'clock train—did n't know that I should get down at all—harnessed up my own team, and pushed over t
Ossining (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 31
the river on the ice—had a hard time of it—ice a good deal broken and quite dangerous—lost the cars on this side—went dogging around to hire a conveyance—got to Sing Sing—went over to my farm and transacted my business there as well as I could in the time—started for the city, and as luck would have it, they had taken off the four o'clock train—did n't know that I should get down at all—harnessed up my own team, and pushed over to Sing Sing again—hadn't gone far before snap went the whippletree—got another though—and reached Sing Sing just two minutes before the cars came along —I've just got in—my feet are cold—let's go to the fire. With these words,Sing Sing just two minutes before the cars came along —I've just got in—my feet are cold—let's go to the fire. With these words, he rose quickly and went into the back room, not to the fire-place, but to a corner near the folding door, where hot air gushed up from a cheerless round hole in the floor. His dress, as I now observed, amply corroborated his account of the day's adventures—shirt all crumpled, cravat all awry, coat
Nebraska (Nebraska, United States) (search for this): chapter 31
vestigate the phenomena as phenomena, and those who embrace them fanatically. Yes, said he, I have no objection to their being investigated by those who have more time than I have. Have you heard, asked the lady, of the young man who personates Shakspeare? No, he replied, but I am satisfied there is no folly it will not run into. Then he rose, and said, Take off your things and go up stairs. must get some supper, for I have to go to that meeting at the Tabernacle, to-night, (anti-Nebraska.) As I passed the hat-stand in the hall, I said, Here is that immortal white coat. He smiled and said, People suppose it's the same old coat, but it is n't. I looked questioningly, and he continued, The original white coat came from Ireland. An emigrant brought it out; he wanted money and I wanted a coat; so I bought it of him for twenty dollars, and it was the best coat I ever had. They do work well, in the old countries; not in such a hurry as we do. The door closed, and I was
St. George, W. Va. (West Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 31
Grace Church to the Battery, is fringed on both sides with a procession of bright-colored fellow-creatures moving with less than their usual languor, in the hope of not being too late at church. The steps of the crowd, I observe, for the first time, are audible; for, no profane vehicle, no omnibus, cart, hack, or wagon, drowns all other noises in their ceaseless thunder. Only a private carriage rolls along occasionally, laden with a family of the uppermost thousand, bound for Trinity or St. George's, or the Brick Chapel, where Dr. Spring discourses of First Things to First Things. It is possible now, and safe, for the admiring stranger, your affectionate brother, to stand in the middle of the street, and to discover that it is perfectly straight, from the rising ground above the Park to where the tall, white spire of Grace Church, so strikingly terminates the beautiful promenade—a feat which no man hath been able to accomplish on a week-day these thirty years. The sun upon this clo
Orange County (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 31
it certainly has known no touch of the brush since its maker gave it the finishing twirl, and pronounced it good. It differs from the hats of mankind in general, as an enraged porcupine differs from a porcupine whose evil passions slumber. It appears to have been thrown on his head, and has chanced to fall rather behind, like Sam Slick's. Fragments of straw adhere to the nap, as though the owner had been taking morning exercise in a stable. In truth, I hear that he has little faith in Orange County, and keeps a cow. A very long, very loose, well-worn, white over-coat, with the collar standing up, and the long skirts flying behind, envelopes the singular figure. This coat is long, apparently, because it was made a long time ago, before any Parisian or London tailor had from his back-shop issued to Christendom the mandate, let the over-coats of mankind be worn short till further notice. There is, indeed, so little of the citizen in the appearance of the individual I am describing,
T. L. Harris (search for this): chapter 31
able charm. It is expressive of inward serenity, kindliness of nature, and blamelessness of life. The congregation assembles, and the room becomes half full. The gentleman in the white coat continues to read. The preacher arrives, the Rev. T. L. Harris, a slender, pale, dark-haired, black-eyed man, with the youthful look of seventeen. He glances at the extremely Independent Christian with the newspaper, as he brushes by, but receives no nod of recognition in return. He gains his place otremble, as though the spirit it encased were struggling to escape its tenement. And still the editor slept. Not a word of the sermon did he seem to hear, unless it was the last word; for, at the very last, he roused his drowsy powers, and as Mr. Harris sat down, Horace Greeley woke up. Refreshed by his slumbers, he looks about him, and, hearing the premonitory tinkle of the collection, he thrusts his hand into his pocket, draws forth a small silver coin, which he drops into the box, where it
n by printing here two short pieces of narrative, which I chance to have in my possession. An enthusiastic youth, fresh from school and the country, came a few years ago to the city to see the lions. The following is a part of one of his letters home. He describes Horatius at church, and does it well: I have seen Horace Greeley, sister mine, and I am going to tell you all about it. It is Sunday morning. The weather is fine. The bells are ringing. People are going to church. Broadway, from Grace Church to the Battery, is fringed on both sides with a procession of bright-colored fellow-creatures moving with less than their usual languor, in the hope of not being too late at church. The steps of the crowd, I observe, for the first time, are audible; for, no profane vehicle, no omnibus, cart, hack, or wagon, drowns all other noises in their ceaseless thunder. Only a private carriage rolls along occasionally, laden with a family of the uppermost thousand, bound for Trini
or or leaned against the walls. Of the quality of the pictures I could not, in that light, form an opinion. The subjects of more than half of them were religious, such as, the Virgin rapt; Peter, lovest thou me? Christ crowned with thorns; Mary, Joseph, and Child; Virgin and Child; a woman praying before an image in a cathedral; Mary praying; Hermit and Skull; and others. There were some books upon the table, among them a few annuals containing contributions by Horace Greeley, volumes of Burns, Byron, and Hawthorne, Downing's Rural Essays, West's complete Analysis of the Holy Bible, and Ballou's Voice of Universalism. I waited an hour. There came a double and decided ring at the bell. No one answered the summons. Another and most tremendous ring brought the servant to the door, and in a moment, the face of the master of the house beamed into the room. He apologized thus:— I ought to have been here sooner, but I could n't. He flung off his overcoat, hung it up in the hal
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