207 Chapters
Medium 9780253012098

8

S. A. An-sky Indiana University Press ePub

EIZERMAN STOOD ALL the while silent and motionless, as if under a spell. The exchange produced an incredibly strong, almost overwhelming impression on him. From the first lines he understood what was going on and immediately grasped all the power of the subtle, murderous irony of the piece. Holding his breath, his mouth half-open and eyes wide-open, he listened to the reading—it seemed that he was hearing a severe, denunciatory sermon delivered by an ancient prophet. Everything he’d read earlier, not excluding even Hattot Ne’urim, seemed at that moment to be drab and trivial compared to that fiery, venomous “pronouncement.” How could one possibly compare some tale, half of which might have been invented, about people who, although they existed (Eizerman had no doubt of that), were concealed behind invented names, with this daring, sweeping denunciation hurled right in the face of one of the representatives of darkness and lethargy? Right here in this tiny room, on completely ordinary scraps of paper, a sharp spear was being forged that would pierce the heart of the mighty enemy. And in spite of this, the avenger remained in total safety and would have the opportunity to inflict his mortal blows again and again. . . . Before Eizerman’s eyes, and for the very first time, one of those “unheard-of deeds” was taking place in concrete form, the kind that groups of maskilim provoke; he was struck by the strength and the splendor of this “deed.”

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253010476

Chapter 24 Fifteenth Year

William Williams Indiana University Press ePub

My new friend had resided now about a year with me and we were become very happy togather. And it fell out soon after that we both took a ramble with our guns in the Woods. Now as we were going he took a plant, and shewing it to me observed that it was a fine Narcotick, as he termed it; and he after this shewed me others saying, “This is a very fine Stiptick, that a Diuretick.”

“You deal much in Ticks, Messmate,” sd. I. “But if you had once about a dozen such thumpers as I have seen our Harry pull off our Dogs at times, well fixed under each of your arms, you could not make so ready a conveyance of them as you can with a small stone with all your slight of hand.—You have a great knack at your Scots Songs,” said I.

“Did you not observe a book of them among my things?”

“Oh, you have a fund of humour then, I can assure you.”

“If you have such a thing,” said he, “it is a good cordial for low Spirits.”

“If I could read them—” I answered.

“I can do that for you,” he said.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253010476

Chapter 8

William Williams Indiana University Press ePub

I had been on shore about 4 years and 3 months when that these Indians discovered us. After this they began to cut down stuff for erecting a temporary hut for themselves. Harry lent a hand and myself, also, which pleased them much. During this they enquired in particular how I was cast on their shore. Now as I found they had got some knowledge of it from Luta I bade her give the whole relation to them.

In about three hours the tent was finished close to that of Harry. After this they prepared to rest for the night; and on the morrow I proposed for Harry and two of the Indians to go out a striking1 fish, (Viz) Futatee and the other, keeping Komaloot with the Girl and me. I ordered it thus as a precaution, but my suspicions were groundless as I found afterward. They returned with some fine fish, and then I ordered some to be cooked for our Voyage.

The next morning we all put off and had a pleasant trip of it. When they arrived on the Spot they all concluded that it would suit much better than the old habitation, but that I must expect to be troubled now and then by the Tigers and Wood Cats, and that Harry must keep a good look out after the Piccaries and Warrees2 or they would devour all our Yams and other things. This was a new hint for I had never once thought of any thing of the kind, having never sceen any in all my time. Nevertheless I was determined to settle on that spot, and I observed to them of my never seeing any Tigers while I lived down at the other place. They told me that was very likely as those Cretures never frequent the low Mangrove grounds, being much disturbed at the noise of the Ocean and finding little game in such quarters. But they observed that when Ever any visited us we should shew them some fire and they would soon run off, observing that the very Smoke continued for a length of time seldom failed to make them quit that quarter; then, pointing to the Deer, observed that she would be apt to draw them about us. But I was determined to stand the chance as I was passionately fond of the place.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253002365

Chapter Seventeen

Gregory Schwipps Indiana University Press ePub

In the middle of the week, there’d been the excitement of the straw baling. Two days after Wayne had combined the whole wheat field in several hours, Charlie Wolfing baled the straw with the help of five gangly high school boys. They’d started in the morning and worked all day while Frank watched them from a lawn chair set under his oak tree. Catfish stayed with him and barked at the boys as they rode the wagons around and around the field. Charlie drove the tractor and baler while two boys stacked the load. Three others hauled the full wagons back to Charlie’s with a pickup, where they unloaded it onto an elevator and stacked it in his hayloft before bringing back the empty wagons. Frank sat in his chair and counted the loads. Every hour or so Ethel brought him another glass of iced tea. The field was now an even blanket of wheat stubble, marked in regular patterns with tire tracks where the combine and the tractors had flattened the stalks. So there’d been that, and now he wanted to call Chub and head for the river. He wanted to see if it looked different—see if those government assholes had been driving stakes down there. But then the green beans came on and he spent inordinate amounts of time helping Ethel snap them.

See All Chapters
Medium 9780253002365

Chapter Twenty-Five

Gregory Schwipps Indiana University Press ePub

Loss,” the preacher said, trying to look him in the eyes, “this is not something God meant for us to understand infallibly.” They sat on the hard pew in the little church on the edge of Logjam. The preacher’s eyes were magnified by his glasses and any time Frank tried to look elsewhere the preacher would touch him on the knee and affix him with a fresh stare. Frank had never spoken to this man and he’d barely set foot inside these walls. There’d been a few weddings and funerals—only funerals over the last ten years—and this particular preacher was new. He’d served elsewhere, though, because he was older than Frank. The sanctuary looked the same: chips of plaster had fallen off the low ceiling and Jesus hung from a cross on the wall. It was not an astounding likeness, Frank assumed.

He sat there and examined the curve of his cane handle, held upright between his knees. Metal worn smoother than any machine could sand it. Only a leaning hand could do such work, and only over years.

See All Chapters

See All Chapters