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Stockton, Frank Richard, 1834-1902

"The House of Martha"


It was not long before I came upon a stream of a character that somewhat
surprised me. It was not very wide, for at this spot the trees met above
it, darkening its waters with their quivering shadows; but it was
evidently deep, much deeper than the woodland streams of its size to
which I had been accustomed. I would have liked to cross it and continue
my walk, but I saw no way of getting over. With a broken branch I
sounded the water near the shore, and found it over two feet deep; and
as it was no doubt deeper toward the middle, I gave up the idea of
reaching the other side. But as I had no particular reason for getting
over, especially as I should be obliged to get back again, I contented
myself easily with my present situation, and, taking a seat on the
upheaved root of a large tree, I lighted a cigar, and gave myself up to
the delights of this charming solitude. I was glad to be away from
everybody, even from Walkirk, the companion I had chosen for my summer
journey.
There were insects gently buzzing in the soft summer air; on the other
side of the stream, in a spot unshadowed by the trees, the water was
sparkling in the sunlight, and every little puff of the fitful breeze
brought to me the smell of wild grapes, from vines which hung from the
trees so low that they almost touched the water.


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