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[82]

Chapter 6: apprenticeship.

  • The village of East Poultney
  • -- Horace applies for the place -- scene in the garden -- he makes an impression -- a difficulty arises and is overcome -- he enters the office -- rite of Initiation -- Horace the Victor—his employer's recollections of him -- the pack of cards -- Horace begins to paragraph -- joins the Debating Society -- his manner of Debating -- Horace and the Dandy -- his noble conduct to his father -- his first glimpse of Saratoga -- his manners at the table -- becomes the town -- Encyclopedia -- the doctor's story -- recollections of one of his fellow apprentices -- Horace's favorite poets -- politics of the time -- the anti-mason excitement -- the Northern Spectator stops -- the apprentice is Free.


East Poultney is not, decidedly not, a place which a traveler if, by any extraordinary chance, a traveler should ever visit it would naturally suspect of a newspaper. But, in one of the most densely-populated parts of the city of New York, there is a field! —a veritable, indubitable field, with a cow in it, a rough wooden fence around it, and a small, low, wooden house in the middle of it, where an old gentleman lives, who lived there when all was rural around him, and who means to live there all his days, pasturing his cow and raising his potatoes on ground which he could sell—but won—at a considerable number of dollars per foot. The field in the metropolis we can account for. But that a newspaper should ever have been published at East Poultney, Rutland county, Vermont, seems, at the first view of it, inexplicable.

Vermont, however, is a land of villages; and the business which is elsewhere done only in large towns is, in that State, divided among the villages in the country. Thus, the stranger is astonished at seeing among the few signboards of mere hamlets, one or two containing most unexpected and metropolitan announcements, such as, ‘Silversmith,’ ‘organ factory,’ ‘Piano Fortes,’ ‘print-ing office,’ or ‘Patent melodeons.’ East Poultney, for example, is little more than a hamlet, yet it once had a newspaper, and boasts a small factory of melodeons at this moment. A foreigner

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