Seven Dreamers

Harper & Brothers, 1890 - 281 páginas

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Página 140 - Water's pretty — cold this — spring — an' the stream's risin' — but — I — can — do it; don't ye mind — 'bout me, sir. I'll get acrost." Once more the voice ceased, and we thought we should not hear it again this side that stream. But suddenly a strange light came over the thin face, the soft gray eyes opened wide, and he cried out, with the strong voice we had so often heard come ringing out to us across the mountain streams above the sound of their rushing. "Here I be, sir! It's...
Página 172 - Baptists that'd ben growin' up an' 'ncreasin' for cent'ries was all comin' inside on her t' wunst an' tearin' her up: but Elder Day he jest said, 's pleasant 's piecrust, he says, ' Let her 'lone, Miss Knapp, an...
Página 130 - Pond, an' I was settin' in the boat, fixin' my lan'in' net, when I see him on the shore. I think mebbe I'm that James — for that's my given name, ye know, though they allers call me Jimmy — an' then I hear him callin
Página 122 - One that sot everythin' by the water, an' useter go along by the lakes an' ponds, an' sail on 'em, an' talk with the men that was fishin'. An' how the fishermen all liked him, 'nd asked his 'dvice, an' done jest 's he telled 'em about the likeliest places to fish; an...
Página 112 - ... the sweet, pensive strain of white-throat sparrow, and the plash of leaping trout; to see the crystal-clear waters pouring over granite rock, the wonderful purple light upon the mountains, the flash and glint of darting fish, the tender green of early summer in the north country. Fishin" Jimmy's real name was James Whitcher.
Página 1 - It shall even be as when an hungry man dreameth, and, behold, he eateth; but he awaketh, and his soul is empty: or as when a thirsty man dreameth, and, behold, he drinketh; but he awaketh, and, behold, he is faint, and his soul hath appetite: so shall the multitude of all the nations be, that fight against mount Zion.
Página 112 - Streeter or Mink Pond, through youth, through manhood, on and on into old age, his life had apparently been one long day's fishing — an angler's holiday. Had it been only that ? He had not cared for books, or school, and all efforts to tie him down to study were unavailing. But he knew well the books of running brooks. No dry botanical text-book or manual could have taught him all he now knew of plants and flowers and trees. He did not call the yellow spatterdock Nuphar advena, but he knew its...
Página 131 - I'm waitin'; mebbe he'll larn me some day." He was fond of all living creatures, merciful to all. But his love for our dog Dash became a passion, for Dash was an angler. Who that ever saw him sitting in the boat beside his master, watching with eager eye and whole body trembling with excitement the line as it was cast, the flies as they touched the surface — who can forget old Dash? His fierce excitement at rise of trout, the efforts at self-restraint, the disappointment if the prey escaped, the...

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