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Smith, Francis Hopkinson, 1838-1915

"Peter: a novel of which he is not the hero"


"Why, hello! Jack, old man! just the very fellow I'm looking for,"
cried the joyous traveller. "You going to New York?--So am I,--go
every day now,--got something on ice,--the biggest thing I've ever
struck. I'll show that uncle of yours that two can play at his
game. He hasn't lifted his hand to help us, and I don't want him
to,--Cory and I can get along; but you'd think he'd come out and
see us once in a while, wouldn't you, or ask after the baby; Mrs.
Breen comes, but not Breen. We live in the country and have tar on
our heels, he thinks. Here,--sit by the window! Now let's talk of
something else. How's Miss Ruth and the governor? He's a daisy;--
best engineer anywhere round here. Yes, Cory's all right. Baby
keeps her awake half the night; I've moved out and camp upstairs;
can't stand it. Oh, by the way, I see you are about finishing up
on the railroad work. I'll have something to say to you next week
on the damage question. Got all the reports in last night. I tell
you, my old chief, Mr. Morris, is a corker! What he doesn't know
about masonry isn't worth picking up;--can't fool him! That's
what's the matter with half of our younger men; they sharpen lead-
pencils, mix ink, and think they are drawing; or they walk down a
stone wall and don't know any more what's behind it and what holds
it up than a child.


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