The Portreeve (Classic Reprint) - Tapa blanda

Excerpt from The Portreeve

Beside the road that enters this Village from the neighbouring market-town of Okehampton, a dark browed cottage shall still be seen. Its strip of garden on this summer day was aflame with crimson phloxes, and along with them strong clumps of Michaelmas daisies were preparing future bloom. Over the wicket gate a mountain rowan had been trained upon an arch, like a wild thing tamed and taught to do a stupid trick. Already its fruit reddened to scarlet.

Before the door of this little house there stood a man. No dewy grave nor dry skeleton threw any shadow on his life's feast, for he was, at once, the serenest and loneliest spirit in his native Village. But the days of his solitude were numbered, and for that reason joy filled him until, among many other cheerful hearts, his was the gladdest. Because, where happy mothers moved and old folks sat in the sun, content ment spread unconsciously and the fair weather and good harvest diffused an objective and general spirit and scent of hope; but in the case of this man his ecstasy was personal: he had reached the threshold of his fortune, and the future promised nothing but pros perity. He was successful; he was healthy; a woman he clearly loved had just promised to marry him; and this climax accrued from his own energy, resource and good sense.

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Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com

This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

Excerpt from The Portreeve

Devon spread her glory to the sun, and, in vesture of high summer, shone like an opal on earth's buxom breast. The time was between the harvests. Pale meadows, whence the hay had vanished, spread for many a mile over hill and valley; ricks rose silvery and sweet of savour in the hot hazes; corn was kerning, and each glowing hour lessened the green of it and added to the gold. Beneath Dartmoor's northern wing, removed from the central wilderness by some miles of forest, fallow and fertile land, a little church-town sunned itself and basked under the rare weather. Only in corners unseen sorrow lurked and suffering hid its head; content was at doors and windows; the hollow smiled and chimed with the music of children. Indeed, maternity seemed the first business of this nest. Here ripe matrons were suckling the race to come, and many a young wife budded to motherhood. They congregated where a rivulet, laden with sweet water from the Moor, babbled at their cottage doors, brought down the first dawn-light to earth, sparkled at noon, and reflected the evening star. A bridge spanned the water, and beside it sank steps to stream-side.

About the Publisher

Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com

This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.