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For miles and miles, away to the white line of the smoking Cordillera, stretched a low rolling plain; one vast thistle-bed, the down of which flew in grey gauzy clouds before a soft fitful breeze; innumerable finches fluttered and pecked above it, and bent the countless flower-heads. Far away, one tall tree rose above the level thistle-ocean. A strange longing seized me to go and tear it down.
"Indeed, Squire, I was only asking him what had become of his donkey, an unoffending creature." SQUIRE. "Unoffending! Upset me amidst a thistle-bed in my own village green! I remember it. Well, what did he say had become of the donkey?" PARSON. "He said but one word; but that showed all the vindictiveness of his disposition. He said it with a horrid wink, that made my blood run cold.
"Indeed, Squire, I was only asking him what had become of his donkey, an unoffending creature." SQUIRE. "Unoffending! Upset me amidst a thistle-bed in my own village green! I remember it. Well, what did he say had become of the donkey?" PARSON. "He said but one word; but that showed all the vindictiveness of his disposition. He said it with a horrid wink, that made my blood run cold.
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