Mass George

Mass' George, by George
Manville Fenn

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Fenn This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
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Title: Mass' George A Boy's Adventures in the Old Savannah
Author: George Manville Fenn
Illustrator: W.T. Smith
Release Date: May 4, 2007 [EBook #21320]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASS'
GEORGE ***

Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

Mass' George, by George Manville Fenn.
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George Bruton, son of Captain Bruton is a young teenager. His father's
plantation is in Georgia. The time is around the middle of the
eighteenth century. Although not keen on the idea of slavery, Captain
Bruton determines that he will buy one of them and will try to treat him
extremely well. The man has a son, whom the family nickname Pompey,
Pomp for short. Eventually these two become relaxed, realising that
there will be no hard treatment for them, and the two boys, George and
Pomp, become fast friends. They have various adventures, including
attacks by alligators, floods, fire, Red Indians, Spaniards, snakes, ants,
and several other nasties.
The book very largely consists of dialogue between the two boys,
starting at the point when Pomp can barely speak English, which he
soon masters after a fashion (which his father never does), and going
on to the point when Captain Bruton decides to free the two slaves, who
had comported themselves well during a prolonged series of attacks by
Indians, and later by Spaniards from Florida as well.
It's quite a long book, but the action is well-sustained, and you will
enjoy it. NH
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MASS' GEORGE, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
CHAPTER ONE.
Interesting? My life? Well, let me see. I suppose some people would
call it so, for now I come to think of it I did go through a good deal;
what with the fighting with the Spaniards, and the Indians, and the fire,
and the floods, and the wild beasts, and such-like adventures. Yes; it
never seemed to occur to me before, you know, me--George Bruton,
son of Captain Bruton of the King's army, who went out with the
General to help colonise Georgia, as they called the country after his
Majesty King George the Second, and went through perils and dangers

such as no one but English gentlemen and their brave followers would
dare and overcome.
You'll find it all in your histories; how the General had leave to take so
many followers, and carve out for themselves land and estates in the
beautiful new country.
My father was one of the party. He went, for he was sick at heart and
despondent. He had married a sweet English lady--my mother--and
when I was about six years old she died; and after growing more and
more unhappy for a couple of years, his friends told him that if he did
not seek active life of some kind, he would die too, and leave me an
orphan indeed.
That frightened him so that he raised himself up from his despondent
state, readily embraced the opportunity offered by the General's
expedition, sold his house in the country to which he had retired on
leaving the army, and was going out to the southern part of North
America with me only. But Sarah would not hear of parting from me,
and begged my father to take her to be my attendant and his servant,
just as on the same day Morgan Johns, our gardener, had volunteered to
go with his master. Not that he was exactly a gardener, though he was
full of gardening knowledge, and was a gardener's son; for he had been
in my father's company in the old regiment, and when my father left it,
followed him down and settled quite into a domestic life.
Well, as Morgan Johns volunteered to go with the expedition, and said
nothing would suit him better than gardening in a new country, and
doing a bit of fighting if it was wanted, and as our Sarah had
volunteered too, it fell out quite as a matter of course, that one day as
my father was seated in his room writing letters, and making his final
preparations for his venturesome journey, and while I was seated there
looking at the pictures in a book, Morgan and Sarah came in dressed in
their best clothes, and stood both of them looking very red in the face.
"Well?" said my father, in the cold, stern way in which he generally
spoke then; "what is it?"

"Tell him,