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Updated: May 11, 2025
There was a sympathetic chord in Pryor Gaines' voice that spoke home to the heart, and so long as he lived in the Grass River valley, he gave the last service for everyone who left it for the larger life beyond it. "I will go for you, Shirley," Horace Carey said. "You forget who brought you this letter.
"Now, mother," said he, "I have a plan to propose, and that is, that we all set out to-morrow morning, and make a pedestrian excursion up the valley, to the next town, or the next town but one." "How far is it?" asked Mrs. Holiday. "Why, the best place to go to," said Rollo, "is Aigle, which is the second town, and that is only six miles from here." "O Rollo!" said Mrs.
It was no use holding them out a prospect that had not any attraction for them! I said nothing more, but rose and moved slowly up the slope of the valley. At once they formed themselves into a long procession; some led the way, some walked with me helping me, and the rest followed. They kept feeding me as we went. "You are broken," they said, "and much red juice has run out of you: put some in."
The dry bones were not more truly awakened by the divine breath in the valley of Jehoshaphat, and never was that apocalyptic vision better realized than in this Lazarus issuing from the sepulchre into life at the voice of a young girl.
Long Island is not as rich in flowers as the valley of the Hudson. Yet there are many. Early in April there is one hillside near us which glows like a tender flame with the white of the bloodroot.
From the instant when the pale light, that precedes the day, was first seen in the heavens, the windows and doors of the considerable dwelling, on the opposite side of the valley, had been unbarred.
Intense fear gripped her and it seemed as if every drop of blood in her veins stood still. The change was like a leap into fairy land; as though they had emerged from the mouth of hell into the beauty of paradise. They were in a green, watered valley, a clear stream wandering here and there through its centre, shadowed by groves of trees.
They came to the place where they had last seen me and hunted all around for me, but being unable to find me they turned and went back to the camp in safety. It is false what has been told about little girls being dressed in white and sent out to me. There was nothing of the kind done. I stayed on the west side of the valley for about two hours, looking down into the emigrant camp.
The men of the valley were all westerners, "men of the western world"; not yet very strong as nationalists, that is, as men of the United States. "Men of the western waters" they also called themselves, for they shunned the uplands and kept near the streams by which or along which they had come into the wilderness and from which they drank.
She sounded drunk and far away, as though she were trying to sing across an ocean. He didn't think that she was on the island. "Good thing," he said to himself. But he was sad for her. The old Johnny Cash song went through his mind: You've got to walk that lonesome valley. You've got to walk it by yourself . . . She was in trouble for sure. The phone rang.
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