[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.And for the supportof this declaration, with a firm reliance on theprotection of Divine Providence, we mutuallypledge to each other-"Judson glanced up, saw more activity in the belltower; ropes bobbing."com "comour lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor."Bedlam broke loose.People shouted, stamped theground, wept and clapped.Judson was punched,nudged, buffeted from every side as the crowd roaredapproval of all it had heard.He wantedto leave the Yard.As he turned, so did Tom Jefferson, his redhair bright as fire in the sun.Their eyes met.Jefferson's looked abruptly sad.He seemed on the point of trying to speak through therising tumult, a tumult heightened by the firstclangorous peals of the huge bell in the StateHouse tower.Ashamed, Judson turned away.Page 135 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlClang! Clang!The bell sang, each peal reverberating.As Judson struggled through the crowd, he thought he'dsuddenly been afflicted with some malady of the ear.He heard echoes begin, sweeping from one end of thesky to the other.Bells of different pitch andvolume, all responding to the signal of the firstbell proclaiming liberty, filling heaven with theirbrazen music-CLANG! CLANG!The free and independent states of America.Judson wasn't embarrassed to wipe tears from hiseyes.Hewould be forgotten.But he had been here.CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!Clambering down from the wall, the old tinker foughttoward him, looking decidedly out of sorts:"Mr.Fletcher-stop pushing, woman, this isimportant! -Mr.Fletcher, you leftWindmill Street ahead o"me-was"That's right, what of it?""Just "fore I come down here, a party of gentlemenarrived.Huntin" for you." The tinker was obviouslyunhappy about this latest disturbance of his quietlife.Judson scowled, his gray-blue eyeshardening."I know of no gentlemen who'd seek meout.""Not a one but didn't have a mighty ugly phiz.And a couple o' pistols, too.Tory gentlemen,I think theywere."Trumbull'scrowd.He'd been lucky to avoid them thus far."I want no trouble, Mr.Fletcher! If you goback to the rooms, I'd at least wait untildark.I just won't abide any more rows, ordamage to my property-wasJudson's decision was almost instantaneous.Heshook his head:"I don't believe I'll go back.I've nobelongings of value there.And my account with you is inorder, isn't it?""Yes, square.But what do you want done with "emthings of yours?""Sell them, burn them, I don't give adamn." He turned and strode swiftly through thecrowd as the bells pealed across the sky.In moments,he was mounted and lashing a path through the celebratingmob, heedless of whom he struck with his flying crop.By early afternoon on the eighth of July,1776, Judson Fletcher was riding southwestwardalong theDelaware, bound home for Virginia.He knew his father's strength of will.There would be noplace for him at Sermon Hill.But he'd facethat problem later.Virginia was the inevitablechoice.It was the only land he knew.Ah, but what did it matter where you lived when yourPage 136 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlonly course seemed to be uncontrollabledestruction of yourself and everything around you?Still, as Jefferson had said, it seemed to him that thereshould be a place in the world-in this country-where a mancould find contentment.An ordered existence.Peacefor a troubled spirit.Unfortunately Judson had noclear and positive idea about where such a placemight be.The brief exhilaration of the morning faded under thewearying rhythm of the horse.Tom Jefferson was rightabout something else.The patriots who had gambled theirfutures and their very lives on a sheet of parchmentcomthe men who had pulled and hauled with such dedicationto create union out of disunion-would want no name likeJudson Fletcher's on their declaration.They wouldwant no part of a man who was dishonorable and damned.But why damned?Why?Was he, as his father contended, the bearer of somecontaminant impossible to overcome? Some fatalflaw of body and soul?-providing, of course, sucha commodity as a soul existed! The old man termedit the devil's blood, but Judson reckonedFletcher bloodwould be more accurate.Whatever the name, was he absolutely powerlessto escape the disastrous effects? Sometimes-as now-hefelt so.But he could never puzzle out a certainanswer.And just thinking about it was laborious andhurtful-Do you suppose there's an inn at the ferrycrossing ahead? I'm plagued thisirsty-Gradually, as he rode on, the last distant ringingofthe bells of Philadelphia died away beneath themurmur of the hot July breeze.What would become of the new nation? he wondered,trying to dismiss a sudden picture of Alice from hismind.What would become of him-hisGodamighty, he was thirsty!And a great fool.The first question was certainly the onlyone of importance.The second-and its answer-counted foil nothing at all.Two TheTimesThat Try Men'sSoulsThePrivateersFEBRUARY ICICLES hung outside the parlorwindows, fiery crystal that dripped in the bright sun.The light spilling into the room sparkled the darkeyes of the baby Philip Kent swung high overhis head, then down again."Philip, you'll frighten him!" Anne said as shecame in.The child, stocky as his father, andwiththe samethick, dark hair, disproved it with a delightedgurgle as Philip set him down gently, thenPage 137 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlbrushed out a fold in the homespun smock Annehad sewn herself."He enjoys it," Philip grinned, moving twopaces backward.He stretched out his arms."Walk to me, Abraham.Walk to Papa."Gurgling again, Abraham took three unsteadysteps.He stumbled and sprawled, wailing.Philip rushed forward.So did the twovisitors [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.And for the supportof this declaration, with a firm reliance on theprotection of Divine Providence, we mutuallypledge to each other-"Judson glanced up, saw more activity in the belltower; ropes bobbing."com "comour lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor."Bedlam broke loose.People shouted, stamped theground, wept and clapped.Judson was punched,nudged, buffeted from every side as the crowd roaredapproval of all it had heard.He wantedto leave the Yard.As he turned, so did Tom Jefferson, his redhair bright as fire in the sun.Their eyes met.Jefferson's looked abruptly sad.He seemed on the point of trying to speak through therising tumult, a tumult heightened by the firstclangorous peals of the huge bell in the StateHouse tower.Ashamed, Judson turned away.Page 135 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlClang! Clang!The bell sang, each peal reverberating.As Judson struggled through the crowd, he thought he'dsuddenly been afflicted with some malady of the ear.He heard echoes begin, sweeping from one end of thesky to the other.Bells of different pitch andvolume, all responding to the signal of the firstbell proclaiming liberty, filling heaven with theirbrazen music-CLANG! CLANG!The free and independent states of America.Judson wasn't embarrassed to wipe tears from hiseyes.Hewould be forgotten.But he had been here.CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!Clambering down from the wall, the old tinker foughttoward him, looking decidedly out of sorts:"Mr.Fletcher-stop pushing, woman, this isimportant! -Mr.Fletcher, you leftWindmill Street ahead o"me-was"That's right, what of it?""Just "fore I come down here, a party of gentlemenarrived.Huntin" for you." The tinker was obviouslyunhappy about this latest disturbance of his quietlife.Judson scowled, his gray-blue eyeshardening."I know of no gentlemen who'd seek meout.""Not a one but didn't have a mighty ugly phiz.And a couple o' pistols, too.Tory gentlemen,I think theywere."Trumbull'scrowd.He'd been lucky to avoid them thus far."I want no trouble, Mr.Fletcher! If you goback to the rooms, I'd at least wait untildark.I just won't abide any more rows, ordamage to my property-wasJudson's decision was almost instantaneous.Heshook his head:"I don't believe I'll go back.I've nobelongings of value there.And my account with you is inorder, isn't it?""Yes, square.But what do you want done with "emthings of yours?""Sell them, burn them, I don't give adamn." He turned and strode swiftly through thecrowd as the bells pealed across the sky.In moments,he was mounted and lashing a path through the celebratingmob, heedless of whom he struck with his flying crop.By early afternoon on the eighth of July,1776, Judson Fletcher was riding southwestwardalong theDelaware, bound home for Virginia.He knew his father's strength of will.There would be noplace for him at Sermon Hill.But he'd facethat problem later.Virginia was the inevitablechoice.It was the only land he knew.Ah, but what did it matter where you lived when yourPage 136 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlonly course seemed to be uncontrollabledestruction of yourself and everything around you?Still, as Jefferson had said, it seemed to him that thereshould be a place in the world-in this country-where a mancould find contentment.An ordered existence.Peacefor a troubled spirit.Unfortunately Judson had noclear and positive idea about where such a placemight be.The brief exhilaration of the morning faded under thewearying rhythm of the horse.Tom Jefferson was rightabout something else.The patriots who had gambled theirfutures and their very lives on a sheet of parchmentcomthe men who had pulled and hauled with such dedicationto create union out of disunion-would want no name likeJudson Fletcher's on their declaration.They wouldwant no part of a man who was dishonorable and damned.But why damned?Why?Was he, as his father contended, the bearer of somecontaminant impossible to overcome? Some fatalflaw of body and soul?-providing, of course, sucha commodity as a soul existed! The old man termedit the devil's blood, but Judson reckonedFletcher bloodwould be more accurate.Whatever the name, was he absolutely powerlessto escape the disastrous effects? Sometimes-as now-hefelt so.But he could never puzzle out a certainanswer.And just thinking about it was laborious andhurtful-Do you suppose there's an inn at the ferrycrossing ahead? I'm plagued thisirsty-Gradually, as he rode on, the last distant ringingofthe bells of Philadelphia died away beneath themurmur of the hot July breeze.What would become of the new nation? he wondered,trying to dismiss a sudden picture of Alice from hismind.What would become of him-hisGodamighty, he was thirsty!And a great fool.The first question was certainly the onlyone of importance.The second-and its answer-counted foil nothing at all.Two TheTimesThat Try Men'sSoulsThePrivateersFEBRUARY ICICLES hung outside the parlorwindows, fiery crystal that dripped in the bright sun.The light spilling into the room sparkled the darkeyes of the baby Philip Kent swung high overhis head, then down again."Philip, you'll frighten him!" Anne said as shecame in.The child, stocky as his father, andwiththe samethick, dark hair, disproved it with a delightedgurgle as Philip set him down gently, thenPage 137 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlbrushed out a fold in the homespun smock Annehad sewn herself."He enjoys it," Philip grinned, moving twopaces backward.He stretched out his arms."Walk to me, Abraham.Walk to Papa."Gurgling again, Abraham took three unsteadysteps.He stumbled and sprawled, wailing.Philip rushed forward.So did the twovisitors [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]