large/2093/ghost_stories_005_librivox_64kb_mp3/old_womans_tale_hawthorne_rkw_64kb_46
large/2093/ghost_stories_005_librivox_64kb_mp3/old_womans_tale_hawthorne_rkw_64kb
English
2093
The youthful pair sat hand in hand beneath the trees, and for several moments they had not spoken, because the breeze was hushed, the brook scarce tinkled, the leaves had ceased their rustling, and everything lay motionless and silent as if Nature were composing herself to slumber. "What a beautiful night it is, Esther!" remarked David, somewhat drowsily. "Very beautiful," answered the girl, in the same tone. THE YOUTHFUL PAIR SAT HAND IN HAND BENEATH THE TREES AND FOR SEVERAL MOMENTS THEY HAD NOT SPOKEN BECAUSE THE BREEZE WAS HUSHED THE BROOK SCARCELY TINKLED THE LEAVES HAD CEASED THEIR RUSTLING AND EVERYTHING LAY MOTIONLESS AND SILENT AS IF NATURE WERE COMPOSING HERSELF TO SLUMBER WHAT A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT IT IS ESTHER REMARKED DAVID SOMEWHAT DROWSILY VERY BEAUTIFUL ANSWERED THE GIRL IN THE SAME TONE
on of its own cellar; farther on stood one of the few recent structures, thrusting its painted face conspicuously into the street, with an evident idea that it was the fairest thing there. About midway in the village was a grist-mill, partly concealed by the descent of the ground towards the stream which turned its wheel. At the southern extremity, just so far distant that the window-paces dazzled into each other, rose the meeting-house, a dingy old barn-like building, with an enormously disproportioned steeple sticking up straight into heaven, as high as the Tower of Babel, and the cause of nearly as much confusion in its day. This steeple, it must be understood, was an afterthought, and its addition to the main edifice, when the latter had already begun to decay, had excited a vehement quarrel, and almost a schism in the church, some fifty years before. Here the road wound down a hill and was seen no more, the remotest object in view being the graveyard gate, beyond the meetinghouse. ETIRING INTO THE SECLUSION OF ITS OWN CELLAR FARTHER ON STOOD ONE OF THE FEW RECENT STRUCTURES THRUSTING ITS PAINTED FACE CONSPICUOUSLY INTO THE STREET WITH AN EVIDENT IDEA THAT IT WAS THE FAIREST THING THERE ABOUTDWAY IN THE VILLAGE WAS A GRIST MILL PARTIALLY CONCEALED BY THE DESCENT OF THE GROUND TOWARD THE STREAM WHICH TURNED ITS WHEEL AT THE SOUTHERN EXTREMITY JUST SO FAR DISTANT THAT THE WINDOW PACES DAZZLED INTO EACH OTHER ROSE THE MEETING HOUSE A DINGY OLD BARN LIKE BUILDING WITH AN ENORMOUSLY DISPROPORTIONED STEEPLE STICKING UP STRAIGHT INTO HEAVEN AS HIGH AS THE TOWER OF BABEL AND THE CAUSE OF NEARLY AS MUCH CONFUSION IN ITS DAY THIS STEEPLE IT MUST BE UNDERSTOOD WAS AN AFTERTHOUGHT AND ITS ADDITION TO THE MAIN EDIFICE WHEN THE LATTER HAD ALREADY BEGUN TO DECAY HAD EXCITED A VEHEMENT QUARREL AND ALMOST A SCHISM IN THE CHURCH SOME FIFTY YEARS BEFORE HERE THE ROAD WOUND DOWN A HILL AND WAS SEEN NO MORE THE REMOTEST OBJECT IN VIEW BEING THE GRAVEYARD GATE BEYOND THE MEETING HOUSE
large/2093/ghost_stories_005_librivox_64kb_mp3/old_womans_tale_hawthorne_rkw_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/2093/ghost_stories_005_librivox_64kb_mp3/old_womans_tale_hawthorne_rkw_64kb.flac