United States or Burundi ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He mowed the grass, and made a neat stack of it, in the centre of the meadow. He cleaned the garden thoroughly, and made some arrangements for enlarging it, though the yield, now, was quite as great as all the colonists could consume; for, no sooner was one vegetable dug, or cut, than another was put in its place.
Then Sir Galahad rode into the midst of the meadow; and there he began to break spears marvellously, so that all men had wonder of him, for he surmounted all knights that encountered with him, except two, Sir Launcelot and Sir Perceval. "So many knights, that all the people cried, And almost burst the barriers in their heat, Shouting 'Sir Galahad and Sir Perceval!" Sir Galahad
The peasants who remained for the night in the meadow scarcely slept all the short summer night. At first there was the sound of merry talk and laughing all together over the supper, then singing again and laughter. All the long day of toil had left no trace in them but lightness of heart. Before the early dawn all was hushed.
To the great astonishment of Moses Mouse, the short-tailed stranger seemed in no wise startled by his news. "Huh!" Master Meadow Mouse exclaimed. "If this Miss Snooper as you call her bothers me, I'll serve her as I did one of her kittens." "What did you do to the kitten?" Moses Mouse inquired with great interest. "I bit her nose," said Master Meadow Mouse. Moses Mouse gazed at him with horror.
The farm-houses across the river made their appearance out of the dusky cloud; the voices of boys were heard, shouting to the cattle as they drove them to the pastures; a man whetted his scythe, and set to work in a neighboring meadow.
Its windows looked out upon one of the loveliest landscapes in New England, with the bright river winding through the broad meadow beyond the house, and the blue Milton Hills dotting the distant background. The bright verdure of New England sparkled on every side, and the stately old elms that stood guard by the house screened it from the prying eyes of the passers on the public road.
There's Petit-Pierre, he's what you might call educated; he can drive oxen very handily already; he knows enough to keep the cattle in the meadow, and he's strong enough to drive the horses to water. So he isn't the one to be a burden to us; but the other two we love them, God knows! poor innocent creatures! cause us much anxiety this year.
As he traversed meadow after meadow he began to ask himself some questions which he found that he could not answer exactly in a consolatory manner, under the present state of things. Among these question was the very pertinent one of, "It's no argument against vampyres, because I don't see the use of 'em is it?"
That same Bohemian, after years of the Latin Quarter and Mont de Piété, found himself one summer on the Dean. One evening at the porch of Ye Hutte he met a lively group of painters and paintresses, just returned from corn-field and meadow. During the short halt the Bohemian's watch was so largely and frequently en évidence as to attract attention.
This meadow, as he divined, was really a carpet of sod floating above a bottomless pool of muck, for it shook beneath her horse's feet. "Come on, it's all right," she called back, cheerily. "We'll soon pick up the other trail." He wondered how she knew, for to him each hill was precisely like another, each thicket a maze. Her caution was all for him.
Word Of The Day