Tales of the Chesapeake by George Alfred Townsend
page 12 of 335 (03%)
page 12 of 335 (03%)
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carouse, or brought from the distant court-house town something for
the children's stockings. Before him was one whose service had been that powerful religion, shivering in the light of its natal star on the loneliest sea-shore of the Atlantic. He had harmed no man, yet all shunned him, because he had loved, and honored his love with a religious rite, instead of profaning it, like others of his race. "Take my tongs," replied the Jew. "Dip yonder! It will be your only Christmas gift." "Peace to thee on earth and good-will to thee from men!" answered the outcast. The preacher raised the long-handled rakes, spread the handles, and dropped them into the Sound. They gave from the bottom a dull, ringing tingle along their shafts. He strove to lift them with their weight of oysters, but his famished strength was insufficient. "I am very weak and faint," he said. "Oh, help me, for the pity of God!" The Jew came to his relief doggedly. The Jew was a powerful, bow-legged man, but with all his strength he could scarcely raise the burden. "By Abraham!" he muttered, "they are oysters of lead. They will neither let go nor rise." He finally rolled upon the deck a single object. It broke apart as it fell. The moonlight, released by his humped shadow, fell upon |
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