Pulp Fiction, 1867 · page 16 of 100
Beadle's Dime Novels No. 115: The Sons of Liberty — page 16: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1867. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
- -* . -. «+ ee ae” > _.~f 7 ‘eT. » ating — eS ¢.. - ae = t ¥ Fo* “ a a ee — is _ ‘THE SONS OF LIBERTY, See died gloriously, while ‘their dying leader sat wounded under a great tree, smoking his pipe and ordering ‘the battle, The sons of Edward Connor were at that forest council, armed, like others, with long rifles, for these woodmen could not use the remarkably ungainly weapon used by the king’s men, calculated to do more damage to the owner than to the enemy. 7 Dick was there, eager and declaiming loudly ; John, look- ing on, with a calm determination upon his young face. Al- most the last man who reached the rendezvous wag the stran- ger, who had been visited by Dick, and informed where they would meet. He came among them as a civilian of the higher order; but a certain something in his look and walk told that he was a soldier by nature and by training. He smiled as he saw so many of the Sons assembled, and looked about him for a rostrum. In the midst of the open space, a tree had been felled, and the stump formed a convenient platform. Placing his hand upon the edge, he bounded to the top, lifted his military figure, cast a look of proud confidence over his hearers, and spoke: “T did not come here to make long speeches, my lads, I know who and what you are, I think; but, before we go on, let me ask if there is one among you who yet yearns after a tad [ the flesh-pots of Egypt? One who is weary of the work we — have undertaken, and who, having put his hand to the plow, looks back? I tell you, Sons of Liberty, that a glorious promise is opening before us, greet it how ye may. ‘This op- position to the stamp-act is only the beginning. Other extor- tions are at hand which are to this as utter darkness is to the twilight. But, we have met for a purpose. Will any-man turn back ?” ; A thundering “ No!” broke from the assemlled band. “Ye speak your minds plainly. Now listen. I have heard that there is a base wretch in this town who, for the gold of the king, will sell these accursed stamps. Will you let him do it?” “ Never !” shouted three score of strong voices. “Burn che old traitor! Rattle his house down about lis ears.” ) “T have a plan,” said the stranger. “ Will you be patient while I tell it to your leader, Riehard Connor ?” commiclooks. conn