The Queen of Sheba, and My Cousin the ColonelAldrich, Thomas Bailey
General
The Queen of Sheba, and My Cousin the Colonel
Aldrich, Thomas Bailey
Fiction
Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH
THE QUEEN OF SHEBA, AND MY COUSIN THE COLONEL
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
1907
CONTENTS
I. MARY
II. IN WHICH THERE IS A FAMILY JAR
III. IN WHICH MARY TAKES A NEW DEPARTURE
IV. THE ODD ADVENTURE WHICH BEFELL YOUNG LYNDE IN THE HILL COUNTRY
V. CINDERELLA'S SLIPPER
VI. BEYOND THE SEA
VII. THE DENHAMS
VIII. FROM GENEVA TO CHAMOUNI
IX. MONTANVERT
X. IN THE SHADOW OF MONT BLANC
XI. FROM CHAMOUNI TO GENEVA
MY COUSIN THE COLONEL
"FOR BRAVERY ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE"
THE QUEEN OF SHEBA
I
MARY
In the month of June, 1872, Mr. Edward Lynde, the assistant cashier and
bookkeeper of the Nautilus Bank at Rivermouth, found himself in a
position to execute a plan which he had long meditated in secret.
A statement like this at the present time, when integrity in a place of
trust has become almost an anomaly, immediately suggests a defalcation;
but Mr. Lynde's plan involved nothing more criminal than a horseback
excursion through the northern part of the State of New Hampshire. A
leave of absence of three weeks, which had been accorded him in
recognition of several years' conscientious service, offered young
Lynde the opportunity he had desired. These three weeks, as already
hinted, fell in the month of June, when Nature in New Hampshire is in
her most ravishing toilet; she has put away her winter ermine, which
sometimes serves her quite into spring; she has thrown a green mantle
over her brown shoulders, and is not above the coquetry of wearing a
great variety of wild flowers on her bosom. With her sassafras and her
sweet-brier she is in her best mood, as a woman in a fresh and becoming
costume is apt to be, and almost any one might mistake her laugh for
the music of falling water, and the agreeable rustle of her garments
for the wind blowing through the pine forests.
As Edward Lynde rode out of Rivermouth one morning, an hour or two
before anybody worth mention was moving, he was very well contented
with this world, though he had his grievances, too, if he had chosen to
think of them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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