All day long the ploughmen on their prairie farms had moved to and fro in their wide level fields through the falling snow, which melted as it fell, wetting them to the skin all day, notwithstanding the frequent squalls of snow, the dripping, desolate clouds, and the muck of the furrows, black and tenacious as tar.
Under their dripping harness the horses swung to and fro silently with that marvellous uncomplaining patience which marks the horse. All day the wild geese, honking wildly, as they sprawled sidewise down the wind, seemed to be fleeing from an enemy behind, and with neck outthrust and wings extended, sailed down the wind, soon lost to sight.
Yet the ploughman behind his plough, though the snow lay on his ragged great-coat, and the cold clinging mud rose on his heavy boots, fettering him like gyves, whistled in the very beard of the gale. As day passed, the snow, ceasing to melt, lay along the ploughed land, and lodged in the depth of the stubble, till on each slow round the last furrow stood out black and shining as jet between the ploughed land and the gray stubble.
When night began to fall, and the geese, flying low, began to alight invisibly in the near corn-field, Stephen Council was still at work "finishing a land.
Sitting bent and cold but cheery under his slouch hat, he talked encouragingly to his four-in-hand. We got t' finish this land. Come in there, Dan! None o' y'r tantrums, Kittie. It's purty tuff, but got a be did.
Don't let Kate git y'r single-tree on the wheel. The tired and hungry man could see the light from the kitchen shining through the leafless hedge, and he lifted a great shout, "Supper f'r a half a dozen! He was picking his way carefully through the mud, when the tall form of a man loomed up before him with a premonitory cough.
|Navigate Guide||The farm is owned by Jim Butler, who acquired it along with several other farms through legal but ethically questionable mortgage foreclosures.|
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|Under The Lion's Paw||Music by Claudio Simonetti. They are permanently in a state of surveillance by contaminated mutants.|
We've tried every house f'r the last two miles, but they hadn't any room f'r us. My wife's jest about sick, 'n' the children are cold and hungry-- " "Oh, y' want 'o stay all night, eh,? We ain't got much, but sech as it is--" But the stranger had disappeared.
And soon his steaming, weary team, with drooping heads and swinging single-trees, moved past the well to the block beside the path. Council stood at the side of the "schooner" and helped the children out two little half-sleeping children and then a small woman with a babe in her arms.
Run right along to the house there, an' tell Mam' Council you wants sumpthin' t' eat. Right this way, Mis' keep right off t' the right there. I'll go an' git a lantern. Come," he said to the dazed and silent group at his side. Council, a large, jolly, rather coarse-looking woman, too the children in her arms.
Now here's a drink o' milk f'r each o' ye. I'll have sam tea in a minute.
Take off y'r things and set up t' the fire. The woman came to light as a small, timid, and discouraged looking woman, but still pretty, in a thin and sorrowful way. An' you've travelled all the way from Clear Lake' t'-day in this mud! No wonder you're all tired out Don't wait f'r the men, Mis'-- " She hesitated, waiting for the name.
It's green tea, an' it's good. I want the reel green tea, jest as it comes off'n the vines.
Seems t' have more heart in it, some way. Don't s'pose it has. Council says it's all in m' eye. Now, don't git up, Mis' Haskins; set right where you are an' let me look after 'em. I know all about young ones, though I'm all alone now.
Jane went an' married last fall. But, as I tell Council, it's lucky we keep our health. Set right there, Mis' Haskins; I won't have you stir a finger.
Under the Lion's Paw The little woman's eyes filled with tears which fell down upon the sleeping baby in her arms.Under the Lion's Paw. short story, Hamlin Garland.
The Yellow Wallpaper. short story, Charlotte Perkins Gilman. A God in Wrath, A Man Saw A Ball of Gold In the Sky, A Man Said to the Universe.
poem, Stephen Crane. Maggie: A Girl of the Streets. novel, Stephen Crane. Seminar in Prose Fiction: English Regionalism, Race, and Nationalism. Spring M p.m. Avery Donna Campbell.
Avery ; ; [email protected] Office Hours: M W and by appointment Virtual Office Hours: Send an instant message at any time to [email protected], [email protected], or [email protected] UNDER THE LION'S PAW by Hamlin Garland.
IT was the last of autumn and first day of winter coming together. ph-vs.com is the place to go to get the answers you need and to ask the questions you want. We would like to show you a description here but the site won’t allow us. Download-Theses Mercredi 10 juin