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Masters, Edgar Lee, 1868-1950

"Children of the Market Place"


We talk of nothing else. It's funny you didn't hear of it anywhere along
the way home. This part of the country is on fire, and they say the East
is waking up to what is going on here in Illinois. I've got the
newspapers here containing all the debates. You've got some good reading
ahead of you. To-morrow's the last debate over at Alton."
"We must go," I said quickly. "I wouldn't miss that for the world. We
must go." And I was thinking, what better way to forget Isabel? Reverdy
was really glad to hear this debate at Alton; but it was necessary for
him to attend to some things this day in preparation of being absent
to-morrow. In the afternoon he had to drive out to his farm, and I went
with him. And when we came within a short distance of the log cabin,
where I had spent my first winter on the farm, I was seized with a
desire to see it again. There was so much of Rome and Italy fresh in my
mind with which to contrast my previous life. And we drove to the cabin.
The door had fallen to one side. The clay between the logs had dried,
turned to dust, and fallen away. The roof had sagged. The fireplace was
going to wreck. We looked in. Weeds had grown up during the summer
through the crevices of the floor. The place was lonely and haunted.
"Well," said Reverdy, "this is the kind of a home that Lincoln had as a
boy.


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