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Under the heavens of the Big Blue we have drunk "the wine of life all day," and "been lighted off" to hemlock-boughs "by the jewels in the cup." Oh, this life that is passing, passing in unseen marches on to the Great Plains where we shall corral forever! I've just opened my cabin-door to look for Saul; he's been gone ten days. The drought came; our maize withered and died.
"Sugar is not so sweet to the palate as sound to the healthy ear." "I put on some hemlock-boughs, and the rich salt crackling of their leaves was like mustard to the ear, the crackling of uncountable regiments. Dead trees love the fire." "The bluebird carries the sky on his back." "The tanager flies through the green foliage as if it would ignite the leaves."
After following the track for two hours, the dogs suddenly stopped at a pile of hemlock-boughs, and began to whine and scratch as if they had discovered something. "Wal," said Uncle Joe, dropping his rifle into the hollow of his arm, "the hounds have found some of the mutton, but the varmint has took himself safe off."
Out of this basin we had just taken trout enough for our supper, which had been killed, and roasted over the fire on sharp sticks, and eaten before they had an opportunity to feel the chill of this deceitful world. We were lying under the hut of spruce-bark, on fragrant hemlock-boughs, talking, after supper.
"Sugar is not so sweet to the palate as sound to the healthy ear." "I put on some hemlock-boughs, and the rich salt crackling of their leaves was like mustard to the ear, the crackling of uncountable regiments. Dead trees love the fire." "The bluebird carries the sky on his back." "The tanager flies through the green foliage as if it would ignite the leaves."
Out of this basin we had just taken trout enough for our supper, which had been killed, and roasted over the fire on sharp sticks, and eaten before they had an opportunity to feel the chill of this deceitful world. We were lying under the hut of spruce-bark, on fragrant hemlock-boughs, talking, after supper.
Out of this basin we had just taken trout enough for our supper, which had been killed, and roasted over the fire on sharp sticks, and eaten before they had an opportunity to feel the chill of this deceitful world. We were lying under the hut of spruce-bark, on fragrant hemlock-boughs, talking, after supper.
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