Fair Harbor, by Joseph Crosby 
Lincoln 
 
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Title: Fair Harbor 
Author: Joseph Crosby Lincoln 
 
Release Date: September 23, 2007 [eBook #22745] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAIR 
HARBOR*** 
E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online 
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) 
 
FAIR HARBOR
* * * * * * 
By JOSEPH C. LINCOLN 
FAIR HARBOR GALUSHA THE MAGNIFICENT THE PORTYGEE 
"SHAVINGS" MARY-'GUSTA CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER THE 
RISE OF ROSCOE PAINE THE POSTMASTER THE WOMAN 
HATERS KEZIAH COFFIN CY WHITTAKER'S PLACE CAP'N ERI 
EXTRICATING OBADIAH THANKFUL'S INHERITANCE MR. 
PRATT MR. PRATT'S PATIENTS KENT KNOWLES: "QUAHAUG" 
CAP'N WARREN'S WARDS THE DEPOT MASTER OUR 
VILLAGE PARTNERS OF THE TIDE THE OLD HOME HOUSE 
CAPE COD BALLADS 
* * * * * * 
FAIR HARBOR 
A Novel 
by 
JOSEPH C. LINCOLN 
Author of "Galusha the Magnificent," "Shavings," "Mary 'Gusta," "Mr. 
Pratt," "Cap'n Eri," Etc. 
 
D. Appleton and Company New York :: 1922 :: London 
Copyright, 1922, by D. Appleton Company Copyright, 1922, by the 
Curtis Publishing Company 
Printed in the United States of America 
 
FAIR HARBOR
CHAPTER I 
"Hi hum," observed Mr. Joel Macomber, putting down his knife and 
fork with obvious reluctance and tilting back his chair. "Hi hum-a-day! 
Man, born of woman, is of few days and full of--of somethin', I forget 
what--George, what is it a man born of woman is full of?" 
George Kent, putting down his knife and fork, smiled and replied that 
he didn't know. Mr. Macomber seemed shocked. 
"Don't know?" he repeated. "Tut, tut! Dear me, dear me! A young feller 
that goes to prayer meetin' every Friday night--or at least waits outside 
the meetin'-house door every Friday night--and yet he don't remember 
his Scriptur' well enough to know what man born of woman is full of? 
My soul and body! What's the world comin' to?" 
Nobody answered. The six Macomber children, Lemuel, Edgar, 
Sarah-Mary, Bemis, Aldora and Joey, ages ranging from fourteen to 
two and a half, kept on eating in silence--or, if not quite in silence, at 
least without speaking. They had been taught not to talk at table; their 
mother had taught them, their father playing the part of horrible 
example. Mrs. Macomber, too, was silent. She was busy stacking plates 
and cups and saucers preparatory to clearing away. When the clearing 
away was finished she would be busy washing dishes and after that at 
some other household duty. She was always busy and always behind 
with her work. 
Her husband turned to the only other person at the crowded table. 
"Cap'n Sears," he demanded, "you know 'most everything. What is it 
man born of woman is full of besides a few days?" 
Sears Kendrick thoughtfully folded his napkin. There was a hole in the 
napkin--holes were characteristic of the Macomber linen--but the 
napkin was clean; this was characteristic, too. 
"Meanin' yourself, Joel?" he asked, bringing the napkin edges into line.
"Not necessarily. Meanin' any man born of woman, I presume likely." 
"Humph! Know many that wasn't born that way?" 
Mr. Macomber's not too intellectual face creased into many wrinkles 
and the low ceiling echoed with his laugh. "Not many, I don't cal'late," 
he said, "that's a fact. But you ain't answered my question, Cap'n. What 
is man born of woman full of?" 
Captain Kendrick placed the folded napkin carefully beside his plate. 
"Breakfast, just now, I presume likely," he said. "At least, I know two 
or three that ought to be, judgin' by the amount of cargo I've seen 'em 
stow aboard in the last half hour." Then, turning to Mrs. Macomber, he 
added, "I'm goin' to help you with the dishes this mornin', Sarah." 
The lady of the house had her own ideas on that subject. 
"Indeed you won't do anything of the sort," she declared. "The idea! 
And you just out of a crippled bed, as you might say." 
This remark seemed to amuse her husband hugely. "Ho, ho!" he 
shouted. "That's a good one! I didn't know the bed was crippled, Sarah. 
What's the matter with it; got a pain in the slats?" 
Sarah Macomber seldom indulged in retort. Usually she was too busy 
to waste the time. But she allowed herself the luxury of a half minute 
on this occasion. 
"No," she snapped, "but it's had one leg propped up on half a brick for 
over a year. And at least once a week in all that time you've been 
promisin' to bring home a    
    
		
	
	
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