Hills of the Shatemuc

Hills of the Shatemuc

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hills of the Shatemuc, by Susan
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Title: Hills of the Shatemuc
Author: Susan Warner
Release Date: October 23, 2005 [EBook #16918]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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Produced by Daniel Fromont

COLLECTION
OF
BRITISH AUTHORS
VOL. CCCLI.

THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC
BY
ELIZABETH WETHERELL.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

THE
HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC
BY
ELIZABETH WETHERELL,
AUTHOR OF "THE WIDE WIDE WORLD."
A wise man is strong. Proverbs xxiv.5.
_AUTHOR'S EDITION_.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LEIPZIG
BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
1856.

THE HILLS OF THE SHATELUC.
VOL. I.

CHAPTER I.
Low stirrings in the leaves, before the wind Wakes all the green strings
of the forest lyre. LOWELL.
The light of an early Spring morning, shining fair on upland and
lowland, promised a good day for the farmer's work. And where a film
of thin smoke stole up over the tree-tops, into the sunshine which had
not yet got so low, there stood the farmer's house.
It was a little brown house, built surely when its owner's means were
not greater than his wishes, and probably some time before his family
had reached the goodly growth it boasted now. All of them were
gathered at the breakfast-table.
"Boys, you may take the oxen, and finish ploughing that upland field --
I shall be busy all day sowing wheat in the bend meadow."
"Then I'll bring the boat for you, papa, at noon," said a child on the
other side of the table.
"And see if you can keep those headlands as clean as I have left them."
"Yes, sir. Shall you want the horses, father, or shall we take both the
oxen?"
"Both? -- both pairs, you mean -- yes; I shall want the horses. I mean to
make a finish of that wheat lot."
"Mamma, you must send us our dinner," said a fourth speaker, and the
eldest of the boys; -- "it'll be too confoundedly hot to come home."
"Yes, it's going to be a warm day," said the father.
"Who's to bring it to you, Will?" said the mother.
"Asahel -- can't he -- when he brings the boat for papa?"
"The boat won't go to the top of the hill," said Asahel; "and it's as hot

for me as for other folks, I guess."
"You take the young oxen, Winthrop," said the farmer, pushing back
his chair from the table.
"Why, sir?" said the eldest son promptly.
"I want to give you the best," answered his father, with a touch of
comicality about the lines of his face.
"Are you afraid I shall work them too hard?"
"That's just what I'm afraid they'd do for you."
He went out; and his son attended to his breakfast in silence, with a
raised eyebrow and a curved lip.
"What do you want, Winthrop?" the mother presently called to her
second son, who had disappeared, and was rummaging somewhere
behind the scenes.
"Only a basket, mamma," -- came from the pantry.
His mother got up from table, and basket in hand followed him, to
where he was busy with a big knife in the midst of her stores. Slices of
bread were in course of buttering, and lay in ominous number piled up
on the yellow shelf. Hard by stood a bowl of cold boiled potatoes. He
was at work with dexterity as neat-handed and as quick as a woman's.
"There's no pork there, Governor," his mother whispered as he stooped
to the cupboard, -- "your father made an end of that last night; -- but see
-- here --"
And from another quarter she brought out a pie. Being made of dried
apples, it was not too juicy to cut; and being cut into huge pieces they
were stowed into the basket, lapping over each other, till little room
was left; and cheese and gingerbread went in to fill that. And then as
her hands pressed the lid down and his hands took the basket, the eyes
met, and a quick little smile of great brilliancy, that entirely broke up

the former calm lines of his face, answered her; for he said nothing.
And the mother's "Now go!" -- was spoken as if she had enough of him
left at home to keep her heart warm for the rest of the day.
The two ploughmen set forth with their teams. Or ploughboys rather;
for the younger of them as yet