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Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
Novels and Stories (Volume 4); The Pearl of Orr's Island

Novels and Stories (Volume 4); The Pearl of Orr's Island

Paperback

Currently unavailable to order

ISBN10: 1458832848
ISBN13: 9781458832849
Publisher: General Books
Pages: 212
Weight: 0.49
Height: 0.24 Width: 7.44 Depth: 9.69
Language: English
Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: CHAPTER III THE BAPTISM AND THE BURIAL Now, I cannot think of anything more unlikely and uninteresting to make a story of than that old brown lin- ter house of Captain Zephaniah Pennel, down on the south end of Orr's Island. Zephaniah and Mary Pennel, like Zacharias and Elizabeth, are a pair of worthy, God-fearing people, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless; but that is no great recommendation to a world gaping for sensation and calling for something stimulating. This worthy couple never read anything but the Bible, the Missionary Herald, and the Christian Mirror, never went anywhere except in the round of daily business. He owned a fishing-smack, in which he labored after the apostolic fashion; and she washed, and ironed, and scrubbed, and brewed, and baked, in her contented round, week in and out. The only recreation they ever enjoyed was the going once a week, in good weather, to a prayer-meeting in a little old brown school-house, about a mile from their dwelling; and making a weekly excursion every Sunday, in their fishing craft, to the church opposite, on Harpswell Neck. To be sure, Zephaniah had read many wide leaves of God's great book of Nature, for, like most Maine sea-captains, he had been wherever ship can go, to all usual and unusual ports. His hard, shrewd, weather-beaten visage had been seen looking over the railings of his brig in the port of Genoa, swept round by its splendid crescent ofpalaces and its snow-crested Apennines. It had looked out in the Lagoons of Venice at that wavy floor which in evening seems a sea of glass mingled with fire, and out of which rise temples, and palaces, and churches, and distant silvery Alps, like so many fabrics of dream-land. He had been through the Skagerrack and Cattegat, ...