Like the main-travelled road of life,
it is traversed by many classes of people, but the poor and the
weary predominate.
A BRANCH ROAD
I
"Keep the main-travelled road till you come to a branch leading
off-keep to the right."
IN the windless September dawn a voice went singing, a man's
voice, singing a cheap and common air. Yet something in the elan
of it all told he was young, jubilant, and a happy lover.
Above the level belt of timber to the east a vast dome of pale
undazzling gold was rising, silently and swiftly. Jays called in the
thickets where the maples flamed amid the green oaks, with
irregular splashes of red and orange. The grass was crisp with frost
under the feet, the road smooth and gray-white in color, the air was
indescribably sweet, resonant, and stimulating. No wonder the man
sang.
He came Into view around the curve in the lane. He had a fork on
his shoulder, a graceful and polished tool. His straw hat was tilted
on the back of his head, his rough, faded coat was buttoned close
to the chin, and he wore thin buckskin gloves on his hands. He
looked muscular and intelligent, and was evidently about
twenty-two or -three years of age.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26