قراءة كتاب The Heart of the White Mountains, Their Legend and Scenery Tourist's Edition
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The Heart of the White Mountains, Their Legend and Scenery Tourist's Edition
Had he been alone I believe he would have kissed the paper.
“Your news is not bad?” I ventured to ask, seeing him relapse into a fit of musing, and noting the smile that came and went like a ripple on still water.
“Thank you, quite the contrary; but it is important that I should immediately return to Boston.”
“How unfortunate!”
George turned on me a fixed and questioning look, but made no reply.
“And the mountains?” I persisted.
“Oh, sink the mountains!”
I last saw George striding impatiently up and down the platform of the Rochester station, watch in hand. Without doubt he had received his recall. However, there was still the lovelorn colonel.
Never have I seen a man more thoroughly enraptured with the growing beauty of the scenery. I promised myself much enjoyment in his society, for his comments were both original and picturesque; so that by the time we arrived at Wolfborough I had already forgotten George and his widow.
There was the usual throng of idlers lounging about the pier with their noses in the air, and their hands in their pockets; perhaps more than the usual confusion, for the steamer merely touched to take and leave passengers. We went on board. As the bell tolled the colonel uttered an exclamation. He became all on a sudden transformed from a passive spectator into an excited and prominent actor in the scene. He gesticulated wildly, swung his hat, and shouted in a frantic way, apparently to attract the attention of some one in the crowd; failing in which he seized his luggage, took the stairs in two steps, and darting like a rocket among the astonished spectators, who divided to the right and left before his impetuous onset, was in the act of vigorously shaking hands with a hale old gentleman of fifty odd when the boat swung clear. He waved his unoccupied hand, and I saw his face wreathed in smiles. I could not fail to interpret the gesture as an adieu.
“Halloo!” I shouted, “what of the mountains?”
“Burn the mountains!” was his reply. The steamer glided swiftly down the little bay, and I was left to continue my journey alone.
II.
INCOMPARABLE WINNIPISEOGEE.