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Updated: June 14, 2025
Leaves for the pig, and arbutus for us! We make a clean sweep down the hillside "jumping" a rabbit from its form under a brush-pile, discovering where a partridge roosts in a low-spreading hemlock; coming upon a snail cemetery in a hollow hickory stump; turning up a yellow-jackets' nest built two thirds underground; tracing the tunnel of a bobtailed mouse in its purposeless windings in the leaf-mould, digging into a woodchuck's
At the first onset he struck the squirrel square on the end of the nose, his weakest spot, and sent him reeling; he staggered and wriggled into a brush-pile, where he had expected to carry the little grouse, and there lay gasping with red drops trickling down his wicked snout. The partridges left him lying there, and what became of him they never knew, but he troubled them no more.
So burn your big brush-pile, and get out what manure you're goin' to put in the garden, and I'll be ready when you are." "All right. Thank you. I'll just plant some radishes, peas, and beans." "Not beans yet, Mr. Durham. Don't put those in till the last of the month, and plant them very shallow when you do." "How one forgets when there's not much experience to fall back upon!
"For instance!" said another, with a laugh, pointing to the blazing church. "Oh, damn it!" said the former, "that's another thing. A damn nigger school-house ain't of no more account than a brush-pile, anyhow." A hand was thrust through' the opening and the bar lifted from one socket and drawn out of the other. Then the door flew open and a half dozen men rushed into the room.
At the first onset he struck the squirrel square on the end of the nose, his weakest spot, and sent him reeling; he staggered and wriggled into a brush-pile, where he had expected to carry the little grouse, and there lay gasping with red drops trickling down his wicked snout. The partridges left him lying there, and what became of him they never knew, but he troubled them no more.
"We don't know," gasped Dion. "It's big and black and there's two of it. It's right out by the brush-pile." "We were just going to get an armful of brush," added Daphne, "when all of a sudden there it was right beside us! We didn't wait to see it any more. We just ran like everything!" Lydia poked the coals into a blaze and peered out into the surrounding darkness.
She had a fond idea that it was from Beauregard. But she has had to give that up. It's Dutch Hudson River Dutch for something horticultural a tree, or an orchard, or a brush-pile; and she says it's a good name where it belongs. Pity it couldn't have stayed where it belongs. "However, you won't find him quite so scrubby as he sounds.
Nelly on the brush-pile, her hat in her hand, whirling to return, supple and swift, suddenly caught by the heel and flung headlong . . . up again in an instant, and falling again, to her knees this time. Up once more with a desperate haste, writhing and pulling at her shoe, held by its high heel, deep between the knotty poles.
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