Among the northern hills

Among the northern hills

by William Cowper Prime
     
 

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This is an EXACT reproduction of a book published before 1923. This IS NOT an OCR'd book with strange characters, introduced typographical errors, and jumbled words. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process.

Overview

This is an EXACT reproduction of a book published before 1923. This IS NOT an OCR'd book with strange characters, introduced typographical errors, and jumbled words. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
2940019492732
Publisher:
New York, Harper
Format:
NOOK Book
File size:
280 KB

Read an Excerpt


Ill AN UP-COUNTRY ARTIST The sun was nearing the horizon. The road ran close by the side of the river. It was a narrow road just there, and the river was but a small stream a brooklet rather than a brook. But they call it the river, because far down the highland slopes, when it reaches the open country, having received all along its way supplies of water from thousands of springs, it is a river, turning the wheels of great mills, and, farther on, floating ships. Here it ran between grassy banks, crossing and recrossing the road, which was not even bridged over it. But as we drove on it grew stronger, and when another road joined that on which we were driving another stream came in also, and thereafter the road was better and the stream was larger. Soon the slope which had been gentle on the open upland became more steep. Road and river entered the forest, and plunged downhill together. They never separated for miles, the wagon-track following every bend and angle of the torrent, until, at the foot of the long descent, both together came out on a broad valley. Three or four miles across the valley we could see the white tower of a church and a mass of elm- trees which hid the village. But we did not go on to the village. For as we left the forest and came out on the plain we parted company with the stream, which wandered away in green meadows, while the road passed in front of a farm-house, standing among sheds and barns, all looking old and weather-worn, but all in good order. The place had not changed in aspect since I drove up to the door of the old house forty odd years ago. The same stone-walls enclosed the fields, the same clematis vines ran over them, the same white spires ofmeadow-sweet stood up out of low green thickets, the same choke-cherry trees dangled ...

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