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Updated: May 21, 2025
Muir's during the long drive, a talk which for range and raciness I have never heard equaled. He often uses the broad dialect of the Scot, translating as he goes along. His forte is in monologue.
Muir's incomparable dog story, came out in book form while we were in Pasadena. I sent a copy to my brother, who wrote later asking me to inquire of Mr. Muir why he did not keep Stickeen after their perilous adventures together. So I put the question to him one day.
Feather held up her hand and actually laughed. "If Robin meets him in ten years from now-THAT for her very strong views of his training and surroundings!" And she snapped her fingers. Mrs. Muir's distaste for her son's unavoidable connection the man he might succeed had a firm foundation.
Muir's you sent me is beautiful. I've been wishing to read it for years." So they fell to discussing The National Parks of America; but Sara's heart was not in the discussion, much as she admired the book. She was thinking about Nick and Angela.
Before the first evening of his rivals advent had passed, Graydon felt that he must appear to the people in the house as supplanted, and his pride was beginning to be touched. Mrs. Muir's words had added to his irritation. The episode with Madge had left a decidedly unpleasant impression.
"Dinna ye tell Grizzie that." "What for no?" "She wad be angert first, an' syne her hert wad be like to brak." "There's nae occasion to say't," conceded Cosmo. "But what's come o' her the nicht?" he went on. "It's some dark, an' I doobt she'll " "The ro'd atween this an' the Muir's no easy to lowse," said Aggie.
In the evening there was more or less dancing, and her hand was eagerly sought by such of the young men as could obtain the right to ask it. Mrs. Muir's remark that she would become a belle in spite of herself proved true; but while she affected no exclusive or distant airs, the most callow and forward youth felt at once the restraint of her fine reserve.
Our beautiful lake, named Fountain Lake by father, but Muir's Lake by the neighbors, is one of the many small glacier lakes that adorn the Wisconsin landscapes. It is fed by twenty or thirty meadow springs, is about half a mile long, half as wide, and surrounded by low finely-modeled hills dotted with oak and hickory, and meadows full of grasses and sedges and many beautiful orchids and ferns.
In like manner, in John Muir's story of his dog Stickeen, a story to go with "Rab and his Friends," our credulity is not once challenged. Our sympathies are deeply moved because our reason is not in the least outraged.
It was a poor place enough, for Muir's wages were not large; but it was neat and comfortable. His mother was his housekeeper, a querulous old body, with feeble health, one who little needed any additional burden of household care.
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