The Story of a Bad Boy

tty New England town, my parents removed to New Orleans, where my father invested his money so secur

, when my father proposed to take me North to be educated, I had my own peculiar views on the subject. I instantly kicked over the little Negro boy who happened to

ines of orange, fig, and magnolia trees. I knew I was born at the North, but hoped nobody would find it out. I looked upon the misfortune as something so shrouded by time and distance that maybe nobody remembered it. I never told my schoolmates I was a Yankee, because they talked about the Yankees in such a scornful way it made me feel that it was quite a disgra

AN IMAGINARY

ic air with which she struck at an imaginary "mean white,"

o classes -- Indians and white people; that the Indians occasionally dashed down on New York, and scalped any woman or child (giving the preference to children) whom they caught lingering in the ou

ansported to Rivermouth to school, and possibly will forgive me for kicking over little black Sam, and otherwise misconducting myself, when my

lly by the real consternation which he saw written in every line of my countenance. As little b

earning the nature of my objections to going North, and proceeded at once to knock down all my pine log houses, a

brain with such silly stories?" asked m

loe, sir; s

e a blanket embroidered with beads, and ornamen

I didn't thin

exactly? Tom, you wi

s deeply moved myself, though I did not clearly understand what I had said or done to cause him to feel so bad

unt of New England; its early struggles, its progress, and its present condition -- faint and confused g

sorts of fun and adventures, though I was not entirely at rest in my mind touching the savages, and secretly resolved to go on board the ship -- the jour

d in the wilds of the Southwest the red men were still a source of terror to the border settlers. "Trouble with the Indians" was the staple news from Florida published in the New

night previous to the date set for our own departure -- for both my parents were to accompany me. The pony (which nearly kicked me out of bed one night in a dream), and my father's promise that he and my m

ced he was heartily glad to get rid of me), and to part with simple Aunt Chloe, who, in the confusion of her grief, kissed an eyela

m's six front teeth are glistening like pearls; I wave my hand to him manfully then I call out "good