Practice Typing

My father stopped to listen, became interested, effected a meeting, and, after quite an acquaintance, invited him to the ministers dinner. It was after the dinner that father told me what little he knew about him. He had been born in the working class, though he was a descendant of the old line of Everhards that for over two hundred years had lived in America.1 At ten years of age he had gone to work in the mills, and later.