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by:
James Otis
CHAPTER ITHE ISLAND In the year of grace 1758 there were two families living on that island which we of to-day call Mount Desert; but Champlain named Mons Deserts, because its thirteen high, rugged mountains could be seen from the seaward a distance of twenty leagues, making it the first landmark of the coast for seamen. It is said, by those gentlemen who write down historical facts for us young people...
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by:
James Otis
CHAPTER I. THE LIBERTY TREE. It was on the evening of February 21, 1770, in the city of Boston, that a party of boys, ranging in age from ten to eighteen years, were assembled at what was known as "Liberty Hall," which was not a building, but simply the open space sheltered by the wide-spreading branches of the "Liberty Tree." Although General Gage's troops occupied the city, and...
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by:
James Otis
The puffing, panting engine that dragged the long train of heavy cars into the busy little city of Bradford, in the State of Pennsylvania, one day last summer, witnessed through its one white, staring eye, sometimes called the head-light, many happy meetings between waiting and coming friends; but none was more hearty than that between two college mates—one who had graduated the year previous, and...
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by:
James Otis
WHO I AM Yes, my name is Richard Mutton. Sounds rather queer, doesn't it? The lads in London town used to vex me sorely by calling, "Baa, baa, black sheep," whenever I passed them, and yet he who will may find the name Richard Mutton written in the list of those who were sent to Virginia, in the new world, by the London Company, on the nineteenth day of December, in the year of Our Lord,...
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by:
James Otis
JET "What's your name?" "Jethro Lewis." "How old are you?" "I don't know." "Judging from the size I shouldn't say you were over ten." "My size 's against me, that's a fact; but I can run a good deal faster than some fellers twice as big." The manager of the District Messenger Station did not attempt to conceal a smile as the boy...
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by:
James Otis
Chapter I. TOBY'S INTRODUCTION TO THE CIRCUS. "Couldn't you give more'n six pea-nuts for a cent?" was a question asked by a very small boy, with big, staring eyes, of a candy vender at a circus booth. And as he spoke he looked wistfully at the quantity of nuts piled high up on the basket, and then at the six, each of which now looked so small as he held them in his hand....
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