Children -- Fiction; Elves -- Fiction; Kentucky -- Fiction; Magic -- Fiction; Pride and vanity -- Fiction
Produced by David Garcia, Martin Pettit and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Kentuckiana Digital Library)
The Red Moccasins
A STORY
BY MORRISON HEADY
[Illustration]
LOUISVILLE, KY.:
COURIER-JOURNAL JOB PRINTING CO.
1901.
ENTERED ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS,
IN THE YEAR 1901, BY THE AUTHOR.
THE RED MOCCASINS,
A STORY.
CHAPTER I.
Portrait of Our Hero.
Once, in the spring-green years of the good old times, when our
great-grandfathers were great-grandchildren themselves, there lived in
the land of green Kentucky a sprout of a man, some dozen years old, who
went by the name of Sprigg. And "Sprigg," for aught I know to the
contrary, was his real name; though it has so little the sound of a
name, I sometimes wonder his father and mother should ever have thought
of giving it to him, when any grandmother of common capacity for naming
babies could have suggested a better one. "Jeems," for example, or
"Weeliam." Be this as it may, "Sprigg" was the name to which our hero
always answered, whenever addressed as cousin, or uncle, or friend; and
which, before going the way of all good grandfathers, he left at the end
of his will, where it was thought real enough, not only to make that
instrument good in the eyes of the law, but his heirs highly respectable
in the eyes of the world. We have no choice, then, but to call our hero
"Sprigg," just as everybody else did; though were we allowed to christen
him more to our liking, we should certainly call him Jack. Jack, in our
humble opinion, being the fittingest name in the world for giving
pointedge and moral force to a juvenile novel. Especially would we be
allowed this liberty in the present instance, where the hero, whose
fortune we propose to follow, is described as being of a wild and
run-away turn, and, hence, well fitted to figure as a warning example to
all dissatisfied youngsters, who not content to stay at home and do
their sliding on dry ground, go seeking for ice on a summer day at
imminent risk of getting drowned.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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