anchor under a wide-spreading oak that stood on the
river's edge, a green tent for wanderers like themselves; there they ate
their first meal spread among white clovers, with a pair of squirrels
staring at them as curiously as human spectators ever watched royalty at
dinner, while several meek cows courteously left their guests the shade
and went away to dine at a side-table spread in the sun. They spent an
hour or two talking or drowsing luxuriously on the grass; then the
springing up of a fresh breeze roused them all, and weighing anchor they
set sail for another port.
Now Sylvia saw new pictures, for, leaving all traces of the city behind
them, they went swiftly countryward. Sometimes by hayfields, each an
idyl in itself, with white-sleeved mowers all arow; the pleasant sound
of whetted scythes; great loads rumbling up lanes, with brown-faced
children shouting atop; rosy girls raising fragrant winrows or bringing
water for thirsty sweethearts leaning on their rakes. Often they saw
ancient farm-houses with mossy roofs, and long well-sweeps suggestive of
fresh draughts, and the drip of brimming pitchers; orchards and
cornfields rustling on either hand, and grandmotherly caps at the narrow
windows, or stout matrons tending babies in the doorway as they watched
smaller selves playing keep house under the "laylocks" by the wall.
Villages, like white flocks, slept on the hillsides; martinbox
schoolhouses appeared here and there, astir with busy voices, alive
with wistful eyes; and more than once they came upon little mermen
bathing, who dived with sudden splashes, like a squad of turtles
tumbling off a sunny rock.
Then they went floating under vernal arches, where a murmurous rustle
seemed to whisper, "Stay!" along shadowless sweeps, where the blue
turned to gold and dazzled with its unsteady shimmer; passed islands so
full of birds they seemed green cages floating in the sun, or doubled
capes that opened long vistas of light and shade, through which they
sailed into the pleasant land where summer reigned supreme. To Sylvia it
seemed as if the inhabitants of these solitudes had flocked down to the
shore to greet her as she came. Fleets of lilies unfurled their sails on
either hand, and cardinal flowers waved their scarlet flags among the
green. The sagittaria lifted its blue spears from arrowy leaves; wild
roses smiled at her with blooming faces; meadow lilies rang their
flame-colored bells; and clematis and ivy hung g
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