by Kate Douglas Wiggin

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The Pine And The Rose 1
Old Kennebec 13
The Edgewood "Drive" 28
"Blasphemious Swearin'" 40
The Game Of Jackstraws 50
Hearts And Other Hearts 67
The Little House 81
The Garden Of Eden 93
The Serpent 102
The Turquoise Ring 114
Gold And Pinchbeck 135
A Country Chevalier 145
Housebreaking 160
The Dream Room 168



Rose O' The River Frontispiece
"She's Up!" 6
"He's A Turrible Smart Driver" 20
He Had Certainly "Taken Chances" 32
In A Twinkling He Was In The Water 64
"Rose, I'll Take You Safely" 76
Hiding Her Face As He Flung It Down The River-Bank 116
She Had Gone With Maude To Claude's Store 128
"As Long As Stephen Waterman's Alive, Rose Wiley Can Have Him" 158
"Don't Speak, Stephen, Till You Hear What I Have To Say" 174



It was not long after sunrise, and Stephen Waterman, fresh from his dip
in the river, had scrambled up the hillside from the hut in the
alder-bushes where he had made his morning toilet.

An early ablution of this sort was not the custom of the farmers along
the banks of the Saco, but the Waterman house was hardly a stone's throw
from the water, and there was a clear, deep swimming-hole in the Willow
Cove that would have tempted the busiest man, or the least cleanly, in
York County. Then, too, Stephen was a child of the river, born, reared,
schooled on its very brink, never happy unless he were on it, or in it,
or beside it, or at least within sight or sound of it.

The immensity of the sea had always silenced and overawed him, left him
cold in feeling. The river wooed him, caressed him, won his heart. It
was just big enough to love. It was full of charms and changes, of
varying moods and sudden surprises. Its voice stole in upon his ear with
a melody far sweeter and more subtle than the boom of the ocean. Yet it
was not without strength, and when it was swollen with the freshets of
the spring and brimming with the bounty of its sister streams, it could
dash and roar, boom and crash, with the best of them.

Stephen stood on the side porch, drinking in the glory of the sunrise,
with the Saco winding like a silver ribbon through the sweet loveliness
of the summer landscape.

And the river rolled on toward the sea, singing its morning song,
creating and nourishing beauty at every step of its onward path. Cradled
in the heart of a great mountain-range, it pursued its gleaming way,
here lying silent in glassy lakes, there rushing into tinkling little
falls, foaming great falls, and thundering cataracts. Scores of bridges
spanned its width, but no steamers flurried its crystal depths. Here and
there a rough little rowboat, tethered to a willow, rocked to and fro in
some quiet bend of the shore. Here the silver gleam of a rising perch,
chub, or trout caught the eye; there a pickerel lay rigid in the clear
water, a fish carved in stone: here eels coiled in the muddy bottom of
some pool; and there, under the deep shadows of the rocks, lay fat,
sleepy bass, old, and incredibly wise, quite untempted by, and wholly
superior to, the rural fisherman's worm.

The river lapped the shores of peaceful meadows; it flowed along banks
green with maple, beech, sycamore, and birch; it fell tempestuously over
dams and fought its way between rocky cliffs crowned with stately firs.
It rolled past forests of pine and hemlock and spruce, now gentle, now
terrible; for there is said to be an Indian curse upon the Saco,
whereby, with every great sun, the child of a paleface shall be drawn
into its cruel depths.

Product Details

BN ID: 2940013788176
Publisher: SAP
Publication date: 12/06/2011
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: NOOK Book
File size: 79 KB

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