It was a genuine lane,
all ups and downs, and too narrow for a street, although at last
they have leveled it and widened it, and made a commonplace
thoroughfare of it. I am glad that my baby life knew it in all
its queer, original irregularities, for it seemed to have a
character of its own, like many of its inhabitants, all the more
charming because it was unlike anything but itself. The hill,
too, is lost now, buried under houses.
Our lane came to an end at some bars that let us into another
lane,--or rather a footpath or cowpath, bordered with cornfields
and orchards. We were still on home ground, for my father's
vegetable garden and orchard were here. After a long straight
stretch, the path suddenly took an
abrupt turn, widening into a cart road, then to a tumble-down
wharf, and there was the river!
An "arm of the sea" I was told that our river was, and it did
seem to reach around the town and hold it in a liquid embrace.
Twice a day the tide came in and filled its muddy bed with a
sparkling flood.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53