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Tales of Trail and Town

af Bret Harte

MedlemmerAnmeldelserPopularitetGennemsnitlig vurderingSamtaler
1811,184,285 (5)Ingen
The wind was getting up on the Bolinas Plain. It had started the fine alkaline dust along the level stage road, so that even that faint track, the only break in the monotony of the landscape, seemed fainter than ever. But the dust cloud was otherwise a relief; it took the semblance of distant woods where there was no timber, of moving teams where there was no life. And as Sue Beasley, standing in the doorway of One Spring House that afternoon, shading her sandy lashes with her small red hand, glanced along the desolate track, even HER eyes, trained to the dreary prospect, were once or twice deceived.… (mere)
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i guess the five stars says at least two things about me, mainly, i was born some 150 years from my literary time, and i like natural writing, or, if you will, pointillistic word painting.and i love harte's sense of humour. like thisw: "they somehow apprehended they were being drawn into some form of misbehaviuor , so they looked at each other, and then with perfect freemasonry, stayed dumb." God, that had me rolling with laughter. lToo, love was more serious then. It was not counted on lightly. In fact, at the frontier, it was rarely counted on at all. ( )
  andyray | Oct 19, 2011 |
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The wind was getting up on the Bolinas Plain. It had started the fine alkaline dust along the level stage road, so that even that faint track, the only break in the monotony of the landscape, seemed fainter than ever. But the dust cloud was otherwise a relief; it took the semblance of distant woods where there was no timber, of moving teams where there was no life. And as Sue Beasley, standing in the doorway of One Spring House that afternoon, shading her sandy lashes with her small red hand, glanced along the desolate track, even HER eyes, trained to the dreary prospect, were once or twice deceived.

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