Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
Share image
1
148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
98
The
early
morning
breeze
was
still
blowing,
and
the
warm,
sunshiny
air
was
of
some
ethereal
northern
sort,
with
a
cool
freshness
as
it
came
over
new-fallen
snow.
The
world
was
filled
with
a
fragrance
of
fir-balsam
and
the
faintest
flavor
of
seaweed
from
the
ledges,
bare
and
brown
at
low
tide
in
the
little
harbor.
It
was
so
still
and
so
early
that
the
village
was
but
half
awake.
I
could
hear
no
voices
but
those
of
the
birds,
small
and
great,--the
constant
song
sparrows,
the
clink
of
a
yellow-hammer
over
in
the
woods,
and
the
far
conversation
of
some
deliberate
crows.
I
saw
William
Blackett's
escaping
sail
already
far
from
land,
and
Captain
Littlepage
was
sitting
behind
his
closed
window
as
I
passed
by,
watching
for
some
one
who
never
came.
I
tried
to
speak
to
him,
but
he
did
not
see
me.
There
was
a
patient
look
on
the
old
man's
face,
as
if
the
world
were
a
great
mistake
and
he
had
nobody
with
whom
to
speak
his
own
language
or
find
companionship.
XVII.
A
Country
Road
WHATEVER
DOUBTS
and
anxieties
I
may
have
had
about
the
inconvenience
of
the
Begg's
high
wagon
for
a
person
of
Mrs.
Blackett's
age
and
shortness,
they
were
happily
overcome
by
the
aid
of
a
chair
and
her
own
valiant
spirit.
Mrs.
Todd
bestowed
great
care
upon
seating
us
as
if
we
were
taking
passage
by
boat,
but
she
finally
pronounced
that
we
were
properly
trimmed.
When
we
had
gone
only
a
little
way
up
the
hill
she
remembered
that
she
had
left
the
house
door
wide
open,
though
the
large
key
was
safe
in
her
pocket.
I
offered
to
run
back,
but
my
offer
was
met
with
lofty
scorn,
and
we
lightly
dismissed
the
matter
from
our
minds,
until
two
or
three
miles
further
on
we
met
the
doctor,
and
Mrs.
Todd
asked
him
to
stop
and
ask
her
nearest
neighbor
to
step
over
and
close
the
door
if
the
dust
seemed
to
blow
in
the
afternoon.
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
