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The Plum Tree By: David Graham Phillips (1867-1911) |
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THE PLUM TREE By
DAVID GRAHAM PHILLIPS Author of
The Cost, Golden Fleece, Etc. Illustrated By
E. M. ASHE NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS Copyright 1905
The Bobbs Merrill Company March CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. HOW IT ALL BEGAN 1
II. AT THE COURT OF A SOVEREIGN 17
III. SAYLER "DRAWS THE LINE" 33
IV. THE SCHOOL OF LIFE AS IT IS 44
V. A GOOD MAN AND HIS WOES 68
VI. MISS RAMSAY REVOLTS 78
VII. BYGONES 96
VIII. A CALL FROM "THE PARTY" 107
IX. TO THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY 123
X. THE FACE IN THE CROWD 136
XI. BURBANK 144
XII. BURBANK FIRES THE POPULAR HEART 163
XIII. ROEBUCK & CO. PASS UNDER THE YOKE 168
XIV. A "BOOM FACTORY" 177
XV. MUTINY 193
XVI. A VICTORY FOR THE PEOPLE 199
XVII. SCARBOROUGH 209
XVIII. A DANGEROUS PAUSE 221
XIX. DAVID SENT OUT AGAINST GOLIATH 224
XX. PILGRIMS AND PATRIOTS 234
XXI. AN INTERLUDE 249
XXII. MOSTLY ABOUT MONEY 261
XXIII. IN WHICH A MOUSE HELPS A LION 271
XXIV. GRANBY INTRUDES AGAIN 282
XXV. AN HOUR OF EMOTION 292
XXVI. "ONLY AN OLD JOKE" 296
XXVII. A DOMESTIC DISCORD 306
XXVIII. UNDER A CRAYON PORTRAIT 314
XXIX. A LETTER FROM THE DEAD 327
XXX. A PHILOSOPHER RUDELY INTERRUPTED 333
XXXI. HARVEY SAYLER, SWINEHERD 345
XXXII. A GLANCE BEHIND THE MASK OF GRANDEUR 365
XXXIII. A "SPASM OF VIRTUE" 380
XXXIV. "LET US HELP EACH OTHER" 387
THE PLUM TREE I HOW IT ALL BEGAN
"We can hold out six months longer, at least six months." My mother's
tone made the six months stretch encouragingly into six long years. I see her now, vividly as if it were only yesterday. We were at our
scant breakfast, I as blue as was ever even twenty five, she brave and
confident. And hers was no mere pretense to reassure me, no cheerless
optimism of ignorance, but the through and through courage and strength
of those who flinch for no bogey that life or death can conjure. Her
tone lifted me; I glanced at her, and what shone from her eyes set me on
my feet, face to the foe. The table cloth was darned in many places, but
so skilfully that you could have looked closely without detecting it.
Not a lump of sugar, not a slice of bread, went to waste in that house;
yet even I had to think twice to realize that we were poor, desperately
poor. She did not hide our poverty; she beautified it, she dignified it
into Spartan simplicity. I know it is not the glamour over the past that
makes me believe there are no women now like those of the race to which
she belonged. The world, to day, yields comfort too easily to the
capable; hardship is the only mould for such character, and in those
days, in this middle western country, even the capable were not
strangers to hardship... Continue reading book >>
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