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Wood, Eugene, 1860-1923

"Back Home"

That's
generally the way of it. Who is there so free and foot-loose that,
if harm befall him, some woman will not go mourning all her days?
It must take the heart out of brave men to think what their women
folk must suffer, mothers and wives and - Who? Dan O'Brien? Oh,
he'll be all right. He'll light on his feet like a cat. I believe
that boy is made of India rubber. He never gets hurt. Why, one
time - Ah! There he goes now up the ladder as if nothing had
happened. Hooray-ayayay! Hooray-ay-ay-ay! I thought he'd broken
his neck as sure as shooting.
Wandering about one cannot fail to encounter what the gallant
fire-laddies have rescued from the devouring element. There is
the piano with a deep scratch across the upper part, and the top
lid hanging by one hinge. It caught in the door, and the boys
were kind of in a hurry. There is the parlor carpet, plucked up by
the roots, as it were; and two tubs, the washboard and a bag of
clothes-pins; a stuffed chair, with three casters gone, the
coffee-pot, a crayon enlargement, a winter overcoat, a blanket, a
pile of old dresses, the screw-driver and a paper of tacks in the
colander, the couch with a triangular rip in the cover, the
coal-scuttle, a pile of dishes, the ax and wood-saw, a fancy
pillow, the sewing-machine with the top gone, the wash-boiler,
the basket of dirty clothes, with the stove-shaker and the parlor
clock in together, and a heap of books, all spraddled and sprawled
every which way.


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