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Updated: July 11, 2025
"Hush, you silly children!" ordered the mother, reprovingly. Lenore was glad to finish that meal and to get outdoors. She could smile now at that shrewd and terrible Kitty, but recollection of her father's keen eyes was confusing.
Scott's literary work began with the translation from the German of Bürger's romantic ballad of Lenore and of Goethe's Götz von Berlichingen ; but there was romance enough in his own loved Highlands, and in 1802-1803 appeared three volumes of his Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, which he had been collecting for many years.
And all the sooner if I can be with him more. He loves me. I feel I'm the only thing that counteracts the the madness in his mind the death in his soul." Anderson made one of his violent gestures. "I believe you. That hits me with a bang. It takes a woman!... Lenore, what's your idea?" "I want to to marry him," murmured Lenore. "To nurse him to take him home to his wheat-fields."
The situation looked hopeless to Lenore and she was sick. What cruel fates toyed with this young farmer! He seemed to be sinking under this last crowning blow. There in the sky, rolling up and rumbling, was the long-deferred rain-storm that meant freedom from debt, and a fortune besides.
"Wal, you'll excuse me, Dorn, for handlin' you rough.... Mebbe you don't remember punchin' me one when I got between you an' Glidden?" "Did I?... I couldn't see, Jake," said Dorn. His voice was weak and had a spent ring of passion in it. He did not look at Lenore, but kept his face turned toward the cowboy. "I reckon this 's fur enough," rejoined Jake, halting and looking back.
"Why, yes I had many strange feelings." "Jim's letter was just like he talks. But to me it said somethin' he never meant an' didn't know.... Jim will never come back!" "Yes, dad I divined just that," whispered Lenore. "Strange about that," mused Anderson, with a pull on his cigar. And then followed a silence. Lenore felt how long ago her father had made his sacrifice.
They had hardly left the house when a terrific storm broke forth, appalling in its awful violence; the house shook, trees were uprooted, lightning blazed continually. The tempest was nothing, however, compared to that in Hermann's breast; he could not rest or sleep; fearful visions assailed him: he seemed to hear his beloved Lenore calling him, or begging for mercy from her cruel father.
I did not dance, of course, and I imagine more than one girl found me a "queer soldier." It always has touched me, though, to see and feel the sweetness, graciousness, sympathy, kindness, and that other indefinable something, in the girls I have met. How they made me think of you, Lenore! No doubt about their hearts, their loyalty, their Americanism.
An Edinburgh friend had perused a ballad by Burger, entitled Lenore, but all he could remember of it were the following four lines: Tramp, tramp, across the land they ride; Splash, splash, across the sea. Hurrah! the dead can ride apace, Dost fear to ride with me? Beings of the dwarf race swarmed on the banks of Rhine.
He was a part of our flesh an' blood sent by us Andersons to do our share." Anderson paused in his halting speech, and swallowed hard. His white face twitched strangely and his brow was clammy. Lenore saw that his piercing gaze looked far beyond her for the instant that he broke down. "Jim was a born fighter," the father resumed. "He wasn't vicious. He just had a leanin' to help anybody.
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