Summary

Portrait of Bernie Babcock Bernie Babcock The Daughter of a Republican

Down deep in Hell—away down—down where the fire is hottest, and the black blackest, and the smoke thickest, there let the man be bound forever who covers the business of Hell with a respectable covering. There forever let him see my boy's piteous, quivering face; let him hear the dying moan and see the red blood! I know them, God! You know them, God—you know them! Hear my prayer!"
Another gust of wind came, nearer and stronger, and the lamp flickered out. It was quiet. Very quiet. So quiet that Allison and Sammie heard the sigh that escaped the woman's lips.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Bernie Babcock Bernie Babcock The Daughter of a Republican

Me, Jean Thorn, of sound mind and adult years, falling in love with a liquor dealer! It is too strange to believe, and yet I believe the situation would be perfectly delightful if—if—well, if I were not 'my father's boy.' But I will survive, let it be hoped, and if this maddening, sickening, altogether unmanageable love one reads of had rushed upon me like a whirlwind, it would be the same. The man I marry must not be a 'man atom of the great iniquity,' not even to the extent of his vote.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Bernie Babcock Bernie Babcock The Daughter of a Republican

Jean looked up suddenly. Then she caught her father's hand and drew him to her side.
"I have seen a death to-day, father—a death, a drunkard, loads of beer and whisky."
"Crowley dead at last?"
"Maggie."
"Poor girl. No doubt she is better off."
"Yes, better off," repeated Jean. "But, father, I have been thinking of the whirlwind. You know the Book that has voiced unerringly the stage play of the ages says destruction is coming as a whirlwind—as a whirlwind. Can you not catch its roaring under the bluster of silver and tariff and war? Do you never hear the mutterings of its power?
Source: Gutenberg

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