large/7245/short_story_053_1212_librivox_64kb_mp3/shortstory053_04_titbottomsspectacles_lja_64kb_36
large/7245/short_story_053_1212_librivox_64kb_mp3/shortstory053_04_titbottomsspectacles_lja_64kb
English
7245
Hundreds of summer mornings had the white sails flashed and faded, like vague faces through forgotten dreams. But this time he laid down the spyglass, and leaned against a column of the piazza, and watched the vessel with an intentness that he could not explain. She came nearer and nearer, a graceful spectre in the dazzling morning. HUNDREDS OF SUMMER MORNINGS HAD THE WHITE SAILS FLASHED AND FADED LIKE VAGUE FACES THROUGH FORGOTTEN DREAMS BUT THIS TIME HE LAID DOWN THE SPYGLASS AND LEANED AGAINST A COLUMN OF THE PIAZZA AND WATCHED THE VESSEL WITH AN INTENTNESS THAT HE COULD NOT EXPLAIN SHE CAME NEARER AND NEARER A GRACEFUL SPECTRE IN THE DAZZLING MORNING
on and a quiet smile. "To a stranger, life upon those little islands is uniform even to weariness. But the old native dons, like my grandfather, ripen in the prolonged sunshine, like the turtle upon the Bahama banks, nor know of existence more desirable. Life in the tropics, I take to be a placid torpidity. "During the long, warm mornings of nearly half a century, my grandfather Titbottom had sat in his dressing-gown, and gazed at the sea. But one calm June day, as he slowly paced the piazza after breakfast, his dreamy glance was arrested by a little vessel, evidently nearing the shore. He called for his spyglass, and, surveying the craft, saw that she came from the neighboring island. She glided smoothly, slowly, over the summer sea. The warm morning air was sweet with perfumes, and silent with heat. The sea sparkled languidly, and the brilliant blue sky hung cloudlessly over. Scores of little island vessels had my grandfather seen coming over the horizon, and cast anchor in the port. S TOLD THE STORY WITH SATISFACTION AND A QUIET SMILE TO A STRANGER LIFE UPON THOSE LITTLE ISLANDS IS UNIFORM EVEN TO WEARINESS BUT THE OLD NATIVE DAWNS LIKE MY GRANDFATHER RIPEN IN THE PROLONGED SUNSHINE LIKE THE TURTLE UPON THE BAHAMA BANKS NOR NO OF EXISTENCE MORE DESIRABLE LIFE IN THE TROPICS I TAKE TO BE A PLACID TORPIDITY DURING THE LONG WARM MORNINGS OF NEARLY HALF A CENTURY MY GRANDFATHER TIT BOTTOM HAD SAT IN HIS DRESSING GOWN AND GAZED AT THE SEA BUT ONE CALM JUNE DAY AS HE SLOWLY PACED THE PIAZZA AFTER BREAKFAST HIS DREAMY GLANCE WAS ARRESTED BY A LITTLE VESSEL EVIDENTLY NEARING THE SHORE HE CALLED FOR HIS SPY GLASS AND SURVEYING THE CRAFT SAW THAT SHE CAME FROM THE NEIGHBORING ISLAND SHE GLIDED SMOOTHLY SLOWLY OVER THE SUMMER SEA THE WARM MORNING AIR WAS SWEET WITH PERFUMES AND SILENT WITH HEAT THE SEA SPARKLED LANGUIDLY AND THE BRILLIANT BLUE SKY HUNG CLOUDLESSLY OVER SCORES OF LITTLE ISLAND VESSELS HAD MY GRANDFATHER SEEN COMING OVER THE HORIZON AND CAST ANCHOR IN THE PORT
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