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Holliday, Robert Cortes

"Walking-Stick Papers"

"That's the mother of Cora Splitts," he repeated again.
"She's at White Plains tonight, Cora is. Cora and me," he said, as one
that says, "ah, me, what a world it is!"--"Cora and me was chums once.
Yes, sir; we was chums and went to school together." Some valuable
reminiscences of the distinguished woman, dating back to days before the
world dreamed of what she would become, by one who played with her as a
child, doubtless would have been told, but the conductor was interrupted;
a great many people got off, some others got on the car just then, and he
went forward to collect fares from these, and the thread was broken.
At my journey's end, I recollect, I went into a public-house. There was
a person there whose presence made a deep impression upon my memory. A
fine stocky lad, with a great square jaw, heavy beery jowls, and a
blue-black, bearded chin; in a blue striped collar. He put both hands
firmly on the bar-rail at a good distance apart; straightened his arms
taut and his body at right angles with them, so that he resembled a huge
carpenter's square; then curled his back finely in, and said, with a
significant look at the man behind the bar, "Gimme one o' them shells.


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