William T. Davis

Summary

William T. Davis Plymouth memories of an octogenarian (1906)

Webster twelve years later, breathed into it the breath of life. In a town, which was in early days within the Plymouth colony, the trade was still carried on, and by this fact the scathing words of the oration were inspired. “I hear the sound of the hammer. I see the smoke of the furnace where manacles and fetters are still forged for human limbs. I see the visages of those who by stealth and at midnight labor in this work of hell, foul and dark as may become the artificers of such instruments of misery and torture. Let that spot be purified, or let it cease to be of New England.”
Source: Gutenberg

William T. Davis Plymouth memories of an octogenarian (1906)

Now we are seeing, to say nothing of smelling, either the cigar or the pipe everywhere, in the street, in the office, in court houses, in the state house, between the lips of the mechanic at his work, the provision dealer on his cart, and indeed almost in every place except the pulpit and school, from which it is a matter of congratulation that they are yet excluded. Being a smoker myself, I cannot be charged with prejudice when I express the opinion that this excessive and ill-timed use of tobacco not only violates rules of good taste and propriety, but is well nigh a nuisance.
Source: Gutenberg

William T. Davis Plymouth memories of an octogenarian (1906)

Born and bred on Clark’s Island at the entrance of Plymouth harbor about four miles from town, and eighty acres in extent, he there spent his life a sailor and fisherman when occasion demanded, always a farmer familiar with the secrets which nature is ready to disclose to her lovers, a poet of no mean acquirements, and above all a student of the events of the world, a philosopher who acted his philosophy without preaching it, and who as much deserves the title of sage as some who in a broader field won a more notorious name.
Source: Gutenberg

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