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Hills of the Shatemuc By: Susan Warner (1819-1885) |
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OF BRITISH AUTHORS
VOL. CCCLI.
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC BY ELIZABETH WETHERELL.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
THE
HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC
BY
ELIZABETH WETHERELL, AUTHOR OF "THE WIDE WIDE WORLD."
A wise man is strong.
Proverbs xxiv.5.
AUTHOR'S EDITION .
IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I.
LEIPZIG
BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
1856.
THE HILLS OF THE SHATELUC.
VOL. I.
CHAPTER I.
Low stirrings in the leaves, before the wind
Wakes all the green strings of the forest lyre.
LOWELL.
The light of an early Spring morning, shining fair on upland
and lowland, promised a good day for the farmer's work. And
where a film of thin smoke stole up over the tree tops, into
the sunshine which had not yet got so low, there stood the
farmer's house. It was a little brown house, built surely when its owner's
means were not greater than his wishes, and probably some time
before his family had reached the goodly growth it boasted
now. All of them were gathered at the breakfast table. "Boys, you may take the oxen, and finish ploughing that upland
field I shall be busy all day sowing wheat in the bend
meadow." "Then I'll bring the boat for you, papa, at noon," said a
child on the other side of the table. "And see if you can keep those headlands as clean as I have
left them." "Yes, sir. Shall you want the horses, father, or shall we take
both the oxen?" "Both? both pairs , you mean yes; I shall want the horses.
I mean to make a finish of that wheat lot." "Mamma, you must send us our dinner," said a fourth speaker,
and the eldest of the boys; "it'll be too confoundedly hot
to come home." "Yes, it's going to be a warm day," said the father. "Who's to bring it to you, Will?" said the mother. "Asahel can't he when he brings the boat for papa?" "The boat won't go to the top of the hill," said Asahel; "and
it's as hot for me as for other folks, I guess." "You take the young oxen, Winthrop," said the farmer, pushing
back his chair from the table. "Why, sir?" said the eldest son promptly. "I want to give you the best," answered his father, with a
touch of comicality about the lines of his face. "Are you afraid I shall work them too hard?" "That's just what I'm afraid they'd do for you." He went out; and his son attended to his breakfast in silence,
with a raised eyebrow and a curved lip. "What do you want, Winthrop?" the mother presently called to
her second son, who had disappeared, and was rummaging
somewhere behind the scenes. "Only a basket, mamma," came from the pantry. His mother got up from table, and basket in hand followed him,
to where he was busy with a big knife in the midst of her
stores. Slices of bread were in course of buttering, and lay
in ominous number piled up on the yellow shelf. Hard by stood
a bowl of cold boiled potatoes. He was at work with dexterity
as neat handed and as quick as a woman's. "There's no pork there, Governor," his mother whispered as he
stooped to the cupboard, "your father made an end of that
last night; but see here " And from another quarter she brought out a pie. Being made of
dried apples, it was not too juicy to cut; and being cut into
huge pieces they were stowed into the basket, lapping over
each other, till little room was left; and cheese and
gingerbread went in to fill that. And then as her hands
pressed the lid down and his hands took the basket, the eyes
met, and a quick little smile of great brilliancy, that
entirely broke up the former calm lines of his face, answered
her; for he said nothing. And the mother's "Now go!" was
spoken as if she had enough of him left at home to keep her
heart warm for the rest of the day. The two ploughmen set forth with their teams. Or ploughboys
rather; for the younger of them as yet had seen not sixteen
years. His brother must have been several in advance of him. The farmhouse was placed on a little woody and rocky
promontory jutting out into a broad river from the east shore.
Above it, on the higher grounds of the shore, the main body of
the farm lay, where a rich tableland sloped back to a mountainous
ridge that framed it in, about half a mile from the water... Continue reading book >>
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