The Pine-tree coast . MEADOW BROOK COVE, CAMPOBELLO. Well, dats mighty onsartin, sah ; sometimes dey rises in de day-time andsometimes dey rises in de night-time. There is little enough to detain us about the beach. Clots of bladder-weedhang thick about the grimy wharves, like rags upon the shrunken shanks of amendicant. The slippery stairs and ice-cold recesses beneath them, where thetide is heard washing darkly about, seem tomb-like in comparison with thewarm air and genial sunshine outside. There is a deal of picturesquenessabout all these lonely little hamlets, yet the look of stolid indif
The Pine-tree coast . MEADOW BROOK COVE, CAMPOBELLO. Well, dats mighty onsartin, sah ; sometimes dey rises in de day-time andsometimes dey rises in de night-time. There is little enough to detain us about the beach. Clots of bladder-weedhang thick about the grimy wharves, like rags upon the shrunken shanks of amendicant. The slippery stairs and ice-cold recesses beneath them, where thetide is heard washing darkly about, seem tomb-like in comparison with thewarm air and genial sunshine outside. There is a deal of picturesquenessabout all these lonely little hamlets, yet the look of stolid indifference one seesin the faces of those he meets awakens a doubt whether even an earthquakewould make them go a step faster. Nobody seems in a hurry. The briskness. 55 - --- - 3 t 3 EAS 1 I IF 1 .\\I> Ql I »IH)V BAY. :;;,:» bo noticeable in bheii American neighbors is altogether wanting. And theuncertainty attendant npon their one occupation Beexns to stimulate no desireto better. We are fishermen, they say, and our fathers were fisher-men before us, as it this were the say all and the end all of the this is the type of the provincial fishing-village everywhere, as I haveseen it. While L was walking in the village street, a bell began tolling. Presently Imet the funeral train itself coming up the hill-side, the bearers carrying thecoffin on their shoulders, in the old, primitive way, a few mourners walkingbehind it with downcast looks. A pall bearing a red cross was thrown -the coffin. The procession soon turned aside into a thick clump of trees, fromwhich the measured strokes of the bell still came, and I saw it no more. Iafterwards learned that it was the burial of an aged person, who had become a
Size: 1293px × 1933px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublisherbostonesteslauriat
