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The Fallen Leaves

The Fallen Leaves

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Chapter 1 No.1

Word Count: 1923    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

covery at Ramsgate-that is to say, in the year 1872-the ste

rt a profitless voyage to shipowners. The flow of passengers, at that time of year, sets steadily the other way. Americans are returning from Europe to their own country. Tourists have delayed the voyage until the fierce August heat of the Unite

menaded the deck arm-in-arm with ladies in course of rapid recovery from the first gastric consequences of travelling by sea. The excellent chief engineer, musical in his leisure moments to his fingers' ends, played the fiddle in his cabin, accompanied on the flute by

, as the learned in such matters supposed); and it perched on o

r of the Aquila was the enviable man, who first found the means of destruction ready to his hand. He lifted the gun to his shoulder, he had his finger on the trigger, when he was suddenly pounced upon by one of the passengers-a young, slim, sunburnt, active man-who snatched away the gun, discharged it over the side of the vessel,

and an open mouth from which the unspat tobacco-juice tricked in little brown streams. When the impetuous young gentleman paused (not for want of words, merely for want

r. Let it be understood that nobody is to shoot the bird-and let me suggest to you, sir, t

ou had thrown me overboard after the language I used to you. Pray excuse my quick temper; pray forgive me. What do you say? 'Let bygones be bygones'? That's a capital way of putting it. You're a thorough good fellow. If I can ever be of the smallest use to you (there's my card and address in London), let me know it; I entreat you let me know

o save the poor bird, and that it would be all the better for the weaker part of creation generally if other men were more like him. While the various opinions were still in course of expression, the sound of the luncheon bell cleared the deck of the passengers,

g to take any lun

ved with we don't eat at intervals o

e; I was associated, at one time of my life, with a college devoted to the training of young men. From what I have seen and heard

icture of resignation, and answered in a form

kinghamshire, England. I have been brought up by the Primitive Christian Socialists, at Tadmor Community, State of Illinois. I

me doubt whether he had been made the victim of coarse raille

had produced an unfavourable impressi

whom I meet on my travels curious to know who I am. If you'll please to remember, it's a long way from Illinois to New York, and curious strangers are not scarce on the journey. When one is obliged to keep on saying the same thing over and over

, the simple winning cordial manner of the young fellow with the quaint formula and the strange name. "Come,

sir-but don't call

y n

t Tadmor. I have left all my friends behind me at the Community-and I feel lonely out here on this big ocean, among strangers. Do me a kind

be?" Mr. Hethcote asked, hum

ame. Call me Amelius, and I shall begin to feel at home again. If you're in a

lainly, as you do. The Primitive Christian Socialists must have great confidence in their s

y. "They have unlimited confidence in their

London, I suppose?" M

ace of Amelius showed a

ff his hat when he mentioned his father's death, and came to a sudden pause-with his head bent down, like a man absorbed in thought. In less than a minute he put on his hat again, and looked up with his bright winning s

us. But, my good fellow, have you really no

ook a letter from the breast-pocket of his coat. Mr. Hethcote, watching hi

arkable man-a man who is an example to all the rest of us. He has risen, by dint of integrity and perseverance, from

handed his letter to Mr. Hethco

Farnaby,

Ronald &

tio

te Stree

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