The Village of Hide and SeekWilson, Bingham Thoburn
Science
The Village of Hide and Seek
Wilson, Bingham Thoburn
Children's stories
"Almost dumb with surprise, the children turned about to gaze on the
world that lay far beneath them"
"All the odd, ill-fitting garments ... were changed into raiments of
rich lace and gold"
"He seemed to be leaping over great fields fully a mile at a stride"
"The children stopped to look back upon the spot from which they had
just come"
"Looking upward they were amazed to behold the open sky filled with
sweet-voiced angels"
"He gave the old harp a nimble sweep with his dexterous fingers that
filled the air with enchanting music"
"Perhaps you have noticed by my long hair and studious demeanor that I
am both a gentleman and a scholar"
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THE VILLAGE OF HIDE AND SEEK
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CHAPTER I
"HIS HIGHNESS," THE VAGABOND
On a bright sunny day in the middle of the month of August, a merry
group of gaily dressed children were romping upon the green lawn of a
country place, that, from its well kept and cleanly surroundings, could
not have been mistaken for any other than the home of some prosperous
and perhaps retired gentleman of wealth and refinement.
The old-fashioned stone house, with its wide porch and heavily carved
wooden columns green-coated with climbing ivy, rose amid the stately
trees of the lawn, until it seemed lost in a bower of shadowy foliage.
The low, thatch-roofed out-buildings and long lines of far-reaching
fence, carefully coated with fresh whitewash, stood glistening in the
sunlight, quite in harmony with the polished marble window sills of the
great stone mansion.
Standing in the very centre of the scene, like some still lingering
remnant of the long gone and almost forgotten past, arose the tall,
rustic arm of an old-fashioned well-sweep, that raised or lowered a
moss-covered, old oaken bucket, filled to overflowing and dripping wet
with cool, clear water, not unfrequently visited by this gamboling group
of merry children both during and after their play.
As the children rested for a moment beneath the sheltering arms of an
old oak tree, they were much surprised to behold the form of a wandering
vagabond ambling along the dusty road. His hat was well drawn down over
his eyes to avoid the glaring rays of the mid-day sun. Over his shoulder
and made fast to the end of a crooked stick, that might have answered as
well for a defence as for a staff, hung his sum total of earthly
possessions, tied carefully into a small bundle and as carefully hid
from view within the folds of a red bandanna handkerchief.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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