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Farrar, Frederic William, 1831-1903

"Eric"

"
"Lawks!" said the woman; "well, well! poor young gentleman, I'm afeard
he's been doing something bad."
Balmily and beautiful the evening fell, as Eric, not without toil, made
his way along the road towards Ayrton, which was ten miles off. The road
wound through the valley, across the low hills that encircled it,
sometimes spanning or running parallel to the bright stream that had
been the delight of Eric's innocent childhood. There was something
enjoyable at first to the poor boy's eyes, so long accustomed to the
barren sea, in resting once more on the soft undulating green of the
summer fields, which were intertissued with white and yellow flowers,
like a broidery of pearls and gold. The whole scene was bathed in the
exquisite light, and rich with the delicate perfumes of a glorious
evening, which filled the sky over his head with every perfect gradation
of rose and amber and amethyst, and breathed over the quiet landscape a
sensation of unbroken peace. But peace did not remain long in Eric's
heart; each well-remembered landmark filled his soul with recollections
of the days when he had returned from school, oh! how differently; and
of the last time when he had come home with Vernon by his side.


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