Donald McElroy, Scotch Irishman
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Оглавление
Caldwell Willie Walker. Donald McElroy, Scotch Irishman
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XXX
CHAPTER XXXI
Отрывок из книги
The mellow glow of September lay upon green hills and purple mountains, sleeping in serene content against a tender sky. Over quiet woods, and gliding river, bordered with ribbons of rich meadows, brooded a sweet peace, as if nature, after a busy and fruitful season, took her well earned rest in mood of conscious thankfulness. The very grapes, hanging in heavy amber clusters below the sloping roof of the low-eaved porch on which I sat, suggested fruition and content, as if they had stored all the sweetness possible within their bursting skins, and now rested thankfully upon their strong stems.
I could see my father salting sheep in the meadow, watered by the spring-run, below the house, and I smiled as presently he sought the shade of a spreading elm, and stretched himself full length upon the ground. The droning of the bees, and the sleepy humming of the flies added to the lazy influence of the fondling fruit-scented breeze; I almost nodded over my bullet molding for a moment, then roused myself and went to work. Saturday was my only holiday, and I could not laze the morning away unless I were content to miss my one chance during the week for an afternoon in the forest.
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The invitation proved too tempting to resist, and Aunt Martha followed mother into the back entry, wearing still the look of a much burdened woman. She would forget her role, presently, however, in the interest of inspecting jellies, and butters, and sampling the new cheeses. My mother was a famous housewife, and her domestic products were the admiration of the neighborhood.
"Grandmother," I said, joining her as soon as they were out of hearing, "who is this Ellen O'Niel who is niece to Uncle Thomas?"
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