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Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
The Otter's Story, Jacob's Story, Etc.

The Otter's Story, Jacob's Story, Etc.

Paperback

General Law

Currently unavailable to order

ISBN10: 115161078X
ISBN13: 9781151610782
Publisher: General Books
Pages: 36
Weight: 0.18
Height: 0.07 Width: 7.44 Depth: 9.69
Language: English
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated.1880 Excerpt: ... THE OTTER'S STORY. Four o'clock and a May morning, with the hedgerows greening over and sparkling with dewdrops in the level sunshine. The fronds of the bracken are touched with frost: the air is keen in the clear morning freshness; but the birds are singing their fullest spring song of gladness--that song they sing when summer is close at hand. The thrush's exultant notes ring from the topmost pinnacles of the sprucefirs, and the richer, tenderer song of the blackbird comes in cadences from the low bush where he sits and sings unseen. Mavis and merle are singing, but the notes of other birds chime into the sweet jangle of song, for there are whole shrubberies full of birds, and the morning has awakened them to a world filled with sunshine, alive with gladness. But what of the hills, far away across the broad valley--folded, hill beyond hill in lines of beauty, until in the blue distance the faint outline against the sky may be the Delectable Mountains, or the Land of Beulah, so unearthly does it look in the softened glow of the early sun. The sunshine and the singing all around are full of the gladness of life, but the far-away hills seem to tell of a land of vision nearer the blue sky, nearer the sun, where, if ever footfall come, there will be peace. But nearer and far tamer hills are between us and the land of Beulah, hills lying in long ridges of moorland, high enough for the stag's-horn moss to trail its long wreaths along the turf, and wild enough for the golden plover to haunt in winter, for a solitary grouse to whirr away in its vibratory flight, and for the nesting larks to spring up almost under your feet, soaring up in the blue sky to meet the sun, and fill the air with music. The moorland sloping ever downwards is broken at last into wo...

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