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Riis, Jacob A., 1849-1914

"The Making of an American"


"And what was it like?" asked the priest.
"It was like nothing so much as a big ass," said Patrick, wide-eyed.
"Go home, Pat! and be easy. You've seen your own shadow."
But I am tired now and want to go home to mother and rest awhile.


CHAPTER XV
WHEN I WENT HOME TO MOTHER

There was a heavy step on the stairs, a rap that sounded much as
if an elephant had knocked against the jamb in passing, and there
in the door stood a six-foot giant, calmly surveying me, as if I
were a specimen bug stuck on a pin for inspection, instead of an
ordinary man-person with no more than two legs.
"Well?" I said, groping helplessly among the memories of the past
for a clew to the apparition. Somewhere and sometime I had seen
it before; that much I knew and no more.
The shape took a step into the room. "I am Jess," it said simply,
"Jess Jepsen from Lustrup."
"Lustrup!" I pushed back papers and pen and strode toward the giant
to pull him up to the light. Lustrup! Talk about seven league
boots! that stride of mine was four thousand miles long, if it
was a foot.


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