Excerpt from The Sons of Ham: A Tale of the New South
The time was early fall, morning, of the year 188-; the place, an upstairs office in a small Southern town. The room was large for an office, but contained little furniture beyond a desk and two or three chairs. The walls were not so bare, there being a plentiful array of lawbooks on shelves, and not less than four small portraits, a glance revealing that these were intended to represent Washington, Bismarck, Gladstone, and Grover Cleveland. Their owner was wont to point them out with a look of pride, while remarking that he had always liked to surround himself with "big men;" and even now, as he sat alone, his feet mounted upon the desk, threatening the stability of an inkstand on the right and two bottles of beer on the left, he stared vacantly at the first-named, which hung directly in his front.
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