The Singing Mouse Stories

Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book The Singing Mouse Stories by Emerson Hough, Library of Alexandria
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: Emerson Hough ISBN: 9781465611857
Publisher: Library of Alexandria Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: Emerson Hough
ISBN: 9781465611857
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English
Back again, now, by some impulse of the dog which hasn’t had any day. It is winter now, I remember, Singing Mouse, and I am walking by the shore of the great Inland Seas. There is snow on the ground. The trees look black in contrast as you gaze up from the beach against the high bank. It is cold. It is dark. There is a shiver in the air. There are icicles in the sky. Something is flying through the trees, but silent as if it came out of a grave. I have been walking, I know. I have walked a million miles, and I’m tired. My legs are stiff, and my legging has frozen fast to my overshoe; I remember that. And so I sit down—right here, you know—and look out over the lake—just over there, you see. The ice reaches out from the shore into the lake a long way; and it is covered with snow, and looks white. I can follow that white glimmer in a long, long curve to the right—twenty miles or more, maybe. Yes, it is cold. But ah! what is that out there, and what is it doing? It is setting all the long white curves of ice afire. It is throwing down hammered silver in a broad path, out there on the water. Those are not ripples. That is silver! There will be angels walking on that pathway before long! That is not the moon coming up over the lake! It is the swinging open, by some careless angel’s mischance, of the door of the White City of Rest!... How old, how sore a man climbed up the steep bank! There were white fields. In the distance a dog barked. Away across the fields a bright and cheery light shone out from a window, and as the moon rose higher, it showed the house which held the light. It was not a large house, but it seemed to be a home. Home!—what is that? I wondered; and I remember that I pulled at the frozen legging, and moved, with pain, the limbs grown tired and sore.
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Back again, now, by some impulse of the dog which hasn’t had any day. It is winter now, I remember, Singing Mouse, and I am walking by the shore of the great Inland Seas. There is snow on the ground. The trees look black in contrast as you gaze up from the beach against the high bank. It is cold. It is dark. There is a shiver in the air. There are icicles in the sky. Something is flying through the trees, but silent as if it came out of a grave. I have been walking, I know. I have walked a million miles, and I’m tired. My legs are stiff, and my legging has frozen fast to my overshoe; I remember that. And so I sit down—right here, you know—and look out over the lake—just over there, you see. The ice reaches out from the shore into the lake a long way; and it is covered with snow, and looks white. I can follow that white glimmer in a long, long curve to the right—twenty miles or more, maybe. Yes, it is cold. But ah! what is that out there, and what is it doing? It is setting all the long white curves of ice afire. It is throwing down hammered silver in a broad path, out there on the water. Those are not ripples. That is silver! There will be angels walking on that pathway before long! That is not the moon coming up over the lake! It is the swinging open, by some careless angel’s mischance, of the door of the White City of Rest!... How old, how sore a man climbed up the steep bank! There were white fields. In the distance a dog barked. Away across the fields a bright and cheery light shone out from a window, and as the moon rose higher, it showed the house which held the light. It was not a large house, but it seemed to be a home. Home!—what is that? I wondered; and I remember that I pulled at the frozen legging, and moved, with pain, the limbs grown tired and sore.

More books from Library of Alexandria

Cover of the book The Political Doctrines of Sun Yat-sen: An Exposition of the San Min Chu I by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book Bits about Home Matters by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book Philosophical Transactions on the Magnetizing Power of the More Refrangible Solar Rays and other Biographical Sketches of Mary Fairfax Somerville by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book Count Ulrich of Lindburg: A Tale of the Reformation in Germany by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book Pauvre petite! by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book Teachings of an Initiate by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book English Fairy Tales by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book Poems by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book Folk-lore and Legends: Russian and Polish by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book The Athelings: Complete by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book My Lord Duke by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book Athalie by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book In a Quiet Village by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book The Energy System of Matter: A Deduction From Terrestrial Energy Phenomena by Emerson Hough
Cover of the book William Jay and the Constitutional Movement for the Abolition of Slavery by Emerson Hough
We use our own "cookies" and third party cookies to improve services and to see statistical information. By using this website, you agree to our Privacy Policy