JOHN BOYNTON COMES TO TOWN
ONE afternoon, near the opening of the year 1865, a stoop-shouldered old man drove into the city of Worcester, Massachusetts, and hitched his horse in front of a hardware store. There was a look of weariness in his lined face, caused less by the long ride from Athol than by an accumulation of years spent in hard work. Few whom he passed knew him. To the casual observer he was another countryman dressed up for a visit to the city. Yet, in a few months, his name was to become a familiar one throughout the State. Amazement and impersonal admiration were to be abundantly expressed but, because of his reticence and distaste for personal distinction, he was not to experience the flavor of glory that many another benefactor has sought and relished.
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