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It was a long, low old house, a sort of manor farm, that spread along the top of a slope just beyond the narrow little lake of Willey Water.
From the Farm, as from the City, there can be no question that large numbers, resuscitated in health and character, would be restored to friends up and down the country.
I remember the day because the grass was green, but the air was full of those great "goose-feather" flakes of snow which sometimes fall in late May. I stayed home that summer of '55 and worked on the farm, and pored over my books when I had a chance.
The men were large and hardy; the damsels plump and rosy, and all dressed in good warm homespun. The sheriff informed me that he owned about two thousand acres around his dwelling, and that his farm was worth about one thousand dollars or fifty cents an acre.
You have lived all your life on a farm, yet you are not narrow." "I hope I have not grown narrow," the woman said softly. "I have read a great deal. I have read don't you breathe it to a soul I have often read when I should have been baking pies or washing windows!" "No wonder David worships you so." "I still enjoy reading," said Mother Bab.
So when the miller came home, Peter said the same thing to him, and gave his word to pay six hundred dollars for the boy, so that they might buy themselves a farm of their own, and not have to grind other folks' corn, and to starve when they ran short of water. The miller thought it was a good bargain, and he talked over his wife; and the end was, that Rich Peter got the boy.
They weave a few twigs and sticks togethah just in any kind of way, and nevah mind a bit if their poah little young ones fall out of the nest. They seem to think that any kind of home is good enough, and that is the kind of a home that Elizabeth Lewis has. She is a poah little orphan, and is livin' on a farm up Green Rivah. Mother is her godmothah. That's why she is named Elizabeth Lloyd. Mrs.
"Talk about casting your bread upon the waters and having it come back a whole shipload of angel cake. This is luck. Boys, at last we're on the track of the smugglers, and if the firm of Boone, Durant and Wallace doesn't run them down, I'll go back home and spend the rest of the summer working in a grocery store or on a farm pulling weeds!"
James, aside, discussed his orchard and his crops with Margaret, who had not been long enough away from the farm to lose touch with its interests.
If you can spare a little, we'll lend him enough to buy one of these fruit farms he's talking about." To this I agreed. Together we loaned him enough to make the first payment on a small farm. He was deeply grateful for this and hope again sprang up in his heart. "You won't regret it," he said brokenly. "This will put me on my feet, and by and by perhaps we'll meet in the old valley."
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