The Prospector: A Tale of the Crow's Nest Pass. Ralph Connor

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Published by Good Press, 2021

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066206659

Table of Contents

       I

       A SOCIAL IMPOSSIBILITY

       II

       'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL

       III

       THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS

       IV

       ONLY ONE CLAIM

       V

       "YEA, AND HIS OWN LIFE ALSO"

       VI

       ON THE TRAIL

       VII

       THE OUTPOST

       VIII

       THE OLD PROSPECTOR

       IX

       TIM CARROLL

       X

       THE TURF MEET

       XI

       "I WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN"

       XII

       HIS KEEPER

       XIII

       THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, LONDON

       XIV

       THE OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING

       XV

       EJECTED AND REJECTED

       XVI

       "STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD"

       XVII

       BETTY'S LAST WORDS

       XVIII

       THE DON'S RECOVERY

       XIX

       THE REGIONS BEYOND

       XX

       THE NEW POLICY

       XXI

       THE WAITING GAME

I

      A SOCIAL IMPOSSIBILITY

       Table of Contents

      It was one of November's rare days. The kindly air, vital with the breath of the north wind and mellow with the genial sun, was full of purple haze; the grass, still vividly green, gave no hint of the coming winter; the trees, bony and bare but for a few rags of summer dress, russet-brown and gold, stood softened of all their harshness in the purple haze and slanting, yellow light of the autumn afternoon. Nature wore a face of content. She had fulfilled her course for another year, and, satisfied with her achievement, was obviously thinking of settling herself into her winter's sleep.

      It was a good day to be alive. The tingle in the air somehow got into the blood.

      So it felt to a young girl who danced out from under the trees on the west boundary of the University campus.

      "Oh!" she cried to her statelier, taller sister, who with a young man followed more sedately into the open. "Oh, what a day! What a picture!"

      She was a bonny maid just out of her teens, and, with her brown gown, brown hair and eyes, red cheeks, and wholesome, happy face, she fitted well into the picture she herself looked upon.

      "Dear old 'Varsity," said her sister in a voice quiet, but thrilling with intense feeling. "There is nothing so lovely in all this city of Toronto."

      "Toronto!" exclaimed the young man at her side. "Well, I should say! Don't you know that a distinguished American art critic declares this building the most symmetrical, the most harmonious, the most perfectly proportioned bit of architecture on the American continent. And that is something, from a citizen of the 'biggest nation on dry land.'"

      They walked slowly and silently along the border of the matchless velvety lawn, noting the many features of beauty in the old grey face of the University building—the harmonious variety of lines and curves in curious gargoyles, dragons, and gryphons that adorned the cornices and the lintels, pausing long to admire the wonderful carved entrance with its massive tower above.

      "Great, isn't it?" said Lloyd. "The whole thing, I mean—park, lawn, and the dear old, grey stones."