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Updated: June 28, 2025
When he had done this, he went to the forest near them, cut down a young pine-tree, dug up a root of the hemlock, took a spruce cone, an oak acorn, a hickery nut, and a birch-leaf, and laid them all in the fire which the Nanticoke had kindled.
I will go no further with you; Max will give the alarm if you faint in the avenue, which I don't think you are likely to do, as you have forgotten all about the hemlock." "Oh, how maddening!" she cried. "I have left my basket behind." "Never mind; I will find it and have it filled and sent to you." "Thank you. I am sorry to trouble you." "Not at all.
The felled trees lay piled in wind rows and plan heaps so far as was possible without the help of oxen to move the huge logs; snow covered them pretty deeply, smoothing all unsightliness for the present. 'How I long to have something done towards the building of our house! said Robert, pausing after the fall of a hemlock spruce, while Arthur attacked the upper branches.
The symptoms were described as apoplexy, similar to those of a woman who died in Paris called Adele Blondet, and whose case was reported in a book by Messrs Prevol and Lebrun. Becoming suspicious, I assisted at a chemical analysis of the body, and found that the woman Sprotts had been poisoned by an extract of hemlock, the same poison used in the case of Adele Blondet.
I very well remember the old "meetin'-us" at the "Little Nest," for it was pulled down to give place to its more pretending successor after I had attained my sixteenth year. A description of both may let the reader into the secret of our rural church architecture. The "old Neest meetin'-us," like its successor, was of a hemlock frame, covered with pine clap-boards, and painted white.
That was surely his sister Nelly, and the girl beside her, who wore a grayish dress with a white blouse waist, was Betty Leicester. It was just like kind-hearted little Betty to have teased poor Nelly out into the woods. He would carry them home in his boat; he could rub it clean with some handfuls of hemlock twigs or river grass.
Then, if you stuff in hemlock into the embers of the fire that you were raking out, till it hums and crackles under the boiler, it won't be long before you hear the propeller thud thudding at the stern again, and before the long roar of the steam whistle echoes over to the town.
From Hemlock Mountain's barren crest The roaring gale flies down the west And drifts the snow on Redmount's breast In hollows dark with pine. Full in its path from hill to hill There stands, beside a ruined mill, A lonely house, above whose sill A brace of candles shine. And there an ancient bachelor And maiden sister, full three-score, Sit all forgetful of the roar Of wind and mountain stream;
The slender, graceful branches of the hemlock trees are hung with innumerable drooping sprays of bluish green foliage, beautiful as the Osmunda ferns that grow in these wonderful woods.
But when a porcupine, his quills rattling and bristling till he looked as big around as a half-bushel basket, strolled aimlessly by, the ram was interested and rose to his feet. The little, deep-set eyes of the porcupine passed over him with supremest indifference, and their owner began to gnaw at the bark of a hemlock sapling which grew at one side of the rock.
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