File:St. Nicholas (serial) (1873) (14802918583).jpg

Identifier: stnicholasserial371dodg (find matches)
Title: St. Nicholas (serial)
Year: 1873 (1870s)
Authors: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Subjects: Children's literature
Publisher: (New York : Scribner & Co.)
Contributing Library: Information and Library Science Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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nstable of East Bergholt on the hill. Lott stepped forward of his own accord. And Willie Lott of Flatford Mill, said he,putting Anthony to shame in the matter of abow. And here s my bit of a stick, and here smy hand! The Vicomte smiled, and took it. Then hewinced; for his own hand was thin and whiteand no larger than a girls. I am overcome with the honor, he said,somehow managing to smile again, though it isdoubtful whether he ever forgave Willie Lottthat shake of the hand. And indeed, in afteryears, Lott himself bitterly repented it. But on the famous night that the Frenchmanlanded they little dreamt of what the future hadin store. Indeed, then, as for months afterward,they deemed him all that a courtly gentlemancould be. The boys led him away from the marshlands;for he had again complained that his feet werewet and cold. Together they ascended JupesHill, and entered Dedham, long after midnight,by way of the Manningtree Road. On the wayhe told them tales of the Revolution: of how his
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THE VICOMTE CONFRONTED THEM WITH A BRACE OF PISTOLS IN HIS HANDS. 9 10 THE REFUGEE (Xov, brother had died upon the scaffold and how hehad seen his fathers statue pulled down from itspedestal and shattered in the street in the midstof a cheering mob. That there had been a statue of the French-mans father in Paris, profoundly impressed theboys; and, on being further questioned upon thematter, the Vicomte owned that he had oncecounted as his greatest friend Louis XVI ofFrance, who was his King. Then he went on totell them of the terrible doings in Paris: of howthe mob was running the government and hadsent many of the nobility to the guillotine; of howthe King had fled in a glass coach, with the palefaces of his wife and children hidden in theircloaks; of how Jacobins had converted Paris intoa very stubble-field of gibbets, and of how hisFrance was now dead and soon would be forgot-ten, and the prison lock had turned upon hisKing. So that in no time he had the three ofthem gaping and flu

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