The Man Without a Country, and Other Tales

very year, that it is only the oldest of fogies who tells you of the triumphant procession of steamboats which, in the

him to tell of the broken English and broken French of the Marquis, of Levasseur, and the rest of them; of the

the orphan asylum in Deering Street,-as they passed into the first ward, after having had "a little refreshment" in the managers' room, Sally Eaton, the head nurse, dropped the first cou

e," said the Marqu

anagers talking bad French, and of exhibited Frenchmen talking bad English, passed on; all but good old Elkanah Ogden-God ble

uis," said he, "if his name was not provided for him. We must not leave him here," he said; "he shall grow up a farmer's lad, and not a little cockney." And so, instead of going the grand round of infirmaries, kitchens, bakeries, and dormitories with the rest, the good old soul went back into the managers' room, and wrote at the moment a

settler would be glad to take a ward so recommended. Anybody who knew Betsy Myers as well as old Elkanah Ogd

s habits, which I should else call absurd, with which we lionize strangers. Because our hospitals and poorhouses are the largest buildings we have, we entertain the Prince of Wales and Jenny Lind alike, by showing them crazy people and paupers. Easy enough to laugh at is the di

d accounts with me when they left me on the asylum steps, and I with them. I grew up with such schooling as the public gave,-ten weeks in winter always, and ten in summer, till I was big enough to work on the farm,-better periods of schools, I hold, than on the modern systems. Mr. Ogden I never saw. Regularly he allowed fo

ained or saved by closing that and opening another. The old up-country theory is the true one. Study ten weeks and chop wood fifteen; study ten more and harvest fifteen. But the "Manual-Labor School" offered itself for really no pay, only John Myers and I carried ove

o pay your way through it, I should die, and you would lose your voice with whining, and we should not find one after all. This is what the public happens to provide for you and me. We won't look a gift-horse in the [pg 211] mouth. Get on his b

if Dr. Anthon or Professor Webster will put them into short enoug

concern. I worked in the shop at the school, or on the farm. Afterwards I taught school in neighboring districts. I never bought a ticket in a lottery or a raffle. But whenever there was a chance to do an honest stroke of work,

barrel,-that is, I trusted the Public. I never had but one stroke of luck in my life. I wanted a new pair of boots badly. I was going to walk to Albany, to work in the State library on the history of the Six Nations, which had an interest for me. I did not have a dollar. Just then there passed Congress the bill dividing the surplus revenue. The State of New York received two or three

d in general, for the illustration of a principle. So I will

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