Troop??s liberalism interested Oswald more than anything else about him. He was proud to profess himself no mere traditionalist; he wanted Caxton to ??broaden down from precedent to precedent.?? Indeed he had ambitions to be remembered as a reformer. He hoped, he said, to leave the school ??better than he found it????the modern note surely. His idea of a great and memorable improvement was to let the Upper Fifth fellows into the Corso after morning service on Sunday. He did not think it would make them impertinent; rather it would increase their self-respect. He was also inclined to a reorganization of the afternoon fagging ??to stop so much bawling down the corridor.?? There ought to be a bell??an electric bell??in each prefect??s study. No doubt that was a bit revolutionary??Troop almost smirked. ??It??s all very well for schools like Eton or Winchester to stick to the old customs, sir, but we are supposed to be an Up-to-Date school. Don??t you think, sir??? The egg was everything to this young cockerel; the world outside was naught. Oswald led him on from one solemn puerility to another, and as the big boy talked in his stout man-of-the-world voice, the red eye roved from him to Peter and from Peter back to Troop. Until presently it realized that Peter was watching it as narrowly. ??What does Peter really think of this stuff??? thought Oswald. ??What does Nobby really think of this stuff??? queried Peter.
“Do you mean Corinna the daughter of the poet Pasicles?” asked Persephone.
daughter is not only restrained by her mother’s precepts, but inflamed by her example. The son finds his father’s coevals treating him as a contemporary.
“Your father, dear? Why, because he was a married man.” She had a reminiscent smile. “Molly was born already—she was six months old when Fort Sumter fell. I remember I was nursing her when Papa came in with the news. We couldn’t believe it.” She paused to match a silk placidly. “Married men weren’t called upon to fight,” she explained.
Ford married the widow, and from that union was born, in 1830, one child, James Ford Jr.
By that year so well did Lin-coln speak that his name was put up-on the “Har-ri-son E-lec-to-ral Tick-et,” that
CHAPTER XXVII THE NEXT DAY
Now all these ancient customs and habits, and all the quaint superstitions with which life among the ignorant classes is overgrown, have, I suppose, the same kind of interest and fascination as some of the ancient buildings. But very few people realize, I am convinced, to what degree these ancient customs weigh upon the people, especially the women, and hinder their progress.
way and that, trying to make things out in the uncertain light, he was wondering just where the little level plateau lay from which the bold aviator took his flights, and landed again after he had sufficiently harassed the enemy.
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