Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885 / 2008-10-03 00:00:00
She was, in fact, so
much of a child that she was in a state of eager delight at every new
scene and person. Her childishness proved the best of claims upon every
one's courtesy. Everybody was ready to help "that poor sweet old woman;"
and she was so simply and touchingly grateful for the smallest kindness
that everybody who had helped her once wanted to help her again. More than
one of their fellow-travellers remembered for a long time the bright-faced
young woman with her childish mother, and wondered where they could have
been going, and what was to be their life.
On the fourth day, just as the sun was sinking behind the hills, they
entered the beautiful river interval, through which the road to their new
home lay. Mercy sat with her face almost pressed against the panes of the
car-windows, eagerly scanning every feature of the landscape, to her so
new and wonderful. To the dweller by the sea, the first sight of mountains
is like the sight of a new heavens and a new earth. It is a revelation of
a new life. Mercy felt strangely stirred and overawed. She looked around
in astonishment at her fellow-passengers, not one of whom apparently
observed that on either hand were stretching away to the east and the west
fields that were, even in this late autumn, like carpets of gold and
green. Through these fertile meadows ran a majestic river, curving and
doubling as if loath to leave such fair shores.
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