Domestic fiction; Short stories; Suburban life -- Fiction
When, however, you turned your thoughts and eyes away from this aspect
of it, and looked out upon the water, the neighborhood gloriously
retrieved itself. There its poverty and vulgarity ceased; there its
beauty and grace abounded. A light breeze ruffled the face of the bay,
and the innumerable little sail-boats that dotted it took the sun and
wind upon their wings, which they dipped almost into the sparkle of the
water, and flew lightly hither and thither like gulls that loved the
brine too well to rise wholly from it; larger ships, farther or nearer,
puffed or shrank their sails as they came and went on the errands
of commerce, but always moved as if bent upon some dreamy affair of
pleasure; the steamboats that shot vehemently across their tranquil
courses seemed only gayer and vivider visions, but not more substantial;
yonder, a black sea-going steamer passed out between the far-off
islands, and at last left in the sky above those reveries of
fortification, a whiff of sombre smoke, dark and unreal as a memory
of battle; to the right, on some line of railroad, long-plumed trains
arrived and departed like pictures passed through the slide of a
magic-lantern; even a pile-driver, at work in the same direction, seemed
to have no malice in the blows which, after a loud clucking, it dealt
the pile, and one understood that it was mere conventional violence like
that of a Punch to his baby.
“Why, what a lotus-eating life this is!” said Frank, at last. “Aunt
Melissa, I don't wonder you think it's like the seaside. It's a great
deal better than the seaside. And now, just as we've entered into the
spirit of it, the time's up for the 'Rose Standish' to come and bear
us from its delights. When will the boat be in?” he asked of the
Autobiographer, whom Lucy had pointed out to him.
“Well, she's _ben_ in half an hour, now. There she lays, just outside
the 'John Romer.'”
There, to be sure, she lay, and those pleasure-takers had been so lost
in the rapture of waiting and the beauty of the scene as never to have
noticed her arrival.
II--THE AFTERNOON
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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