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"The mistress of the mansion came, Mature of age, a graceful dame; And every courteous rite was paid, That hospitality could claim." "I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Rainsfield," said John Ferguson, as he rode up to a gentleman at Strawberry Hill, who by his appearance indicated himself as the proprietor of the station.
I had had some little experience of such an entertainment in the strawberry festival at Melbourne. I remembered that good things to eat and drink were sure to be enjoyed, and not these only, but also a pretty and festive air thrown about these things.
The Scott, Siskiyou, and Trinity Mountains rise in long, compact waves to the west and southwest, and the valley of the Sacramento and the coast mountains, with their marvelous wealth of woods and waters, are seen; while close around the base of the mountain lie the beautiful Shasta Valley, Strawberry Valley, Huckleberry Valley, and many others, with the headwaters of the Shasta, Sacramento, and McCloud Rivers.
Bobby yelled his request over the fence, and was told he could stay too. They had strawberry jam, hot biscuit, fried chicken, and little frosted spice cakes, for which Mandy was famous. "Just supposing your mother and mine had said no, about this luncheon," said Nan to Bobby. "I never could have gotten over the loss of these cakes." "You've eaten four.
But, when I saw him dispute with a poor gardener who had laid the sods in his yard, about fifty cents, take sixpence off of a weary strawberry woman, or chaffer with his boot-black over an extra shilling, I could not think that it was genuine love for his fellow-men that prompted his ostentatious charities.
I never shall get over the dirt of this country: it is melancholy, after the purity of Strawberry! The narrowness of the streets, trees clipped to resemble brooms, and planted on pedestals of chalk, and a few other points, do not edify me.
And if the strawberry jam doesn't go to the moving pictures with the bread and butter and forget to come home for supper, I'll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the bee tree. "Well, you're off again, I see!" spoke Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady housekeeper, one morning, as she saw Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, starting away from his hollow stump bungalow.
He’d been a sailor on an English boat and had seen lots of queer places. He had wonderful tattoos. We used to sit and look at them for hours; there was n’t much to look at out there. He was like a picture book. He had a ship and a strawberry girl on one arm, and on the other a girl standing before a little house, with a fence and gate and all, waiting for her sweetheart.
It was late in the afternoon when the work was finished, and I began putting over one of my brigades; but in the midst of its crossing word came that Longstreet's army was moving to attack us, which caused an abandonment of the foraging project, and orders quickly followed to retire to Strawberry Plains, the retrograde movement to begin forthwith.
If I had stayed, there remained nothing but for him to bite me. I give you my honour this conversation is literal, and, perhaps, as long as you have known Englishmen and painters, you never met with anything so distracted. Adieu! STRAWBERRY HILL, July 22, 1761. For my part, I believe Mademoiselle Scudéri drew the plan of this year.
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