"The Ploughboy 



front of the house, and after feebly swinging his 

 axe a few times he pitched forward on his face 

 and died on the wood-pile. The unnatural 

 brother then walked over to the neighbor who 

 had saved Charlie from drowning, and after 

 talking on ordinary affairs, crops, the weather, 

 etc., said in a careless tone: "I have a little job 

 of carpenter work for you, Mr. Anderson." 



"What is it, Mr. ?" "I want you to make 



a coffin." "A coffin!" said the startled car- 

 penter. "Who is dead?" "Charlie," he coolly 

 replied. All the neighbors were in tears over 

 the poor child man's fate. But, strange to say, 

 in all that excessively law-abiding neighbor- 

 hood none was bold enough or kind enough to 

 break the blacksmith's jaw. 



The mixed lot of settlers around us offered a 

 favorable field for observation of the different 

 kinds of people of our own race. We were swift 

 to note the way they behaved, the differences 

 in their religion and morals, and in their ways 

 of drawing a living from the same kind of soil 

 under the same general conditions; how they 

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