The Country of the Pointed Firs Sarah Orne Jewett (bill gates best books TXT) đ
- Author: Sarah Orne Jewett
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I could not help turning to look at Mrs. Blackett, close beside me. Her hands were clasped placidly in their thin black woolen gloves, and she was looking at the flowery wayside as we went slowly along, with a pleased, expectant smile. I do not think she had heard a word about the trees.
âI just saw a nice plant oâ elecampane growinâ back there,â she said presently to her daughter.
âI havenât got my mind on herbs today,â responded Mrs. Todd, in the most matter-of-fact way. âIâm bent on seeing folks,â and she shook the reins again.
I for one had no wish to hurry, it was so pleasant in the shady roads. The woods stood close to the road on the right; on the left were narrow fields and pastures where there were as many acres of spruces and pines as there were acres of bay and juniper and huckleberry, with a little turf between. When I thought we were in the heart of the inland country, we reached the top of a hill, and suddenly there lay spread out before us a wonderful great view of well-cleared fields that swept down to the wide water of a bay. Beyond this were distant shores like another country in the midday haze which half hid the hills beyond, and the faraway pale blue mountains on the northern horizon. There was a schooner with all sails set coming down the bay from a white village that was sprinkled on the shore, and there were many sailboats flitting about it. It was a noble landscape, and my eyes, which had grown used to the narrow inspection of a shaded roadside, could hardly take it in.
âWhy, itâs the upper bay,â said Mrs. Todd. âYou can see âway over into the town of Fessenden. Those farms âway over there are all in Fessenden. Mother used to have a sister that lived up that shore. If we started as earlyâs we could on a summer morninâ, we couldnât get to her place from Green Island till late afternoon, even with a fair, steady breeze, and you had to strike the time just right so as to fetch up âlong oâ the tide and land near the flood. âTwas ticklish business, anâ we didnât visit back anâ forth as much as mother desired. You have to go âway down the coâst to Cold Spring Light anâ round that long pointâ âup hereâs what they call the Back Shore.â
âNo, we were âmost always separated, my dear sister and me, after the first year she was married,â said Mrs. Blackett. âWe had our little families anâ plenty oâ cares. We were always lookinâ forward to the time we could see each other more. Now and then sheâd get out to the island for a few days while her husbandâd go fishinâ; and once he stopped with her anâ two children, and made him some flakes right there and cured all his fish for winter. We did have a beautiful time together, sister anâ me; she used to look back to it longâs she lived.
âI do love to look over there where she used to live,â Mrs. Blackett went on as we began to go down the hill. âIt seems as if she must still be there, though sheâs long been gone. She loved their farmâ âshe didnât see how I got so used to our island; but somehow I was always happy from the first.â
âYes, itâs very dull to me up among those slow farms,â declared Mrs. Todd. âThe snow troubles âem in winter. Theyâre all besieged by winter, as you may say; âtis far better by the shore than up among such places. I never thought I should like to live up country.â
âWhy, just see the carriages ahead of us on the next rise!â exclaimed Mrs. Blackett. âThereâs going to be a great gathering, donât you believe there is, Almiry? It hasnât seemed up to now as if anybody was going but us. Anâ âtis such a beautiful day, with yesterday cool and pleasant to work anâ get ready, I shouldnât wonder if everybody was there, even the slow ones like Phebe Ann Brock.â
Mrs. Blackettâs eyes were bright with excitement, and even Mrs. Todd showed remarkable enthusiasm. She hurried the horse and caught up with the holidaymakers ahead. âThereâs all the Depâfords goinâ, six in the wagon,â she told us joyfully; âanâ Misâ Alva Tilleyâs folks are now risinâ the hill in their new carryall.â
Mrs. Blackett pulled at the neat bow of her black bonnet-strings, and tied them again with careful precision. âI believe your bonnetâs on a little bit sideways, dear,â she advised Mrs. Todd as if she were a child; but Mrs. Todd was too much occupied to pay proper heed. We began to feel a new sense of gayety and of taking part in the great occasion as we joined the little train.
XVIII The Bowden ReunionIt is very rare in country life, where high days and holidays are few, that any occasion of general interest proves to be less than great. Such is the hidden fire of enthusiasm in the New England nature that, once given an outlet, it shines forth with almost volcanic light and heat. In quiet neighborhoods such inward force does not waste itself upon those petty excitements of every day that belong to cities, but when, at long intervals, the altars to patriotism, to friendship, to the ties of kindred, are reared in our familiar fields, then the fires glow, the flames come up as if from the inexhaustible burning heart of the earth; the primal fires break through the granite dust in which our souls are set. Each heart is warm and every face shines with the ancient light. Such a day as this has transfiguring powers, and easily makes friends of those who have been cold-hearted, and gives to those who are dumb their chance to speak, and lends some beauty
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