The Long Hillside E-Book

Thomas Nelson Page

• Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

In "The Long Hillside," Thomas Nelson Page explores the intricate tapestry of Southern life in the post-Civil War era, weaving together themes of loss, resilience, and the evolving identity of a region grappling with its past. The narrative reflects Page's signature literary style, characterized by rich, lyrical prose and a keen sense of place, immersing readers in the landscapes and complexities of Southern culture. Through vividly drawn characters and poignant dialogue, the book captures the enduring spirit of the South, set against the backdrop of natural beauty and societal change, while also addressing the lingering effects of war on personal and collective identities. Thomas Nelson Page, a prominent figure among Southern writers and a vocal advocate for the Lost Cause narrative, drew heavily on his own experiences growing up in Virginia's countryside. His upbringing infused him with a deep appreciation for Southern traditions, folklore, and the intricate relationships between individuals and their land. These elements resonate throughout "The Long Hillside," reflecting his desire to preserve the memories and struggles of a bygone era, while also forging a literary path that speaks to contemporary issues of identity and belonging. "The Long Hillside" is a compelling read for anyone interested in American literature, Southern history, and the complexities of human emotions. Page's profound insights and evocative storytelling make this work a timeless exploration of heritage and the human condition, inviting readers to reflect on their own connections to place and history.

Leseprobe

Thomas Nelson Page

The Long Hillside

A Christmas Hare-Hunt In Old Virginia / 1908

Published by Good Press, 2019

[email protected]

EAN 4064066162085

Table of Contents

I

II

III

I

Table of Contents

There do not seem to be as many hares now as there used to be when I was a boy. Then the "old fields" and branch-bottoms used to be full of them. They were peculiarly our game; I mean we used to consider that they belonged to us boys. They were rather scorned by the "gentlemen," by which was meant the grown-up gentlemen, who shot partridges over the pointers, and only picked up a hare when she got in their way. And the negroes used to catch them in traps or "gums," which were traps made of hollow gum-tree logs. But we boys were the hare-hunters. They were our property from our childhood; just as much, we considered, as "Bruno" and "Don," the beautiful "crack" pointers, with their brown eyes and satiny ears and coats, were "the gentlemen's."

The negroes used to set traps all the Fall and Winter, and we, with the natural tendency of boys to imitate whatever is wild and primitive, used to set traps also. To tell the truth, however, the hares appeared to have a way of going into the negroes' traps, rather than into ours, and the former caught many to our one.

Even now, after many years, I can remember the delight of the frosty mornings; the joy with which we used to peep through the little panes of the dormer-windows at the white frost over the fields, which promised stronger chances of game being caught; the eagerness with which, oblivious of the cold, we sped through the garden, across the field, along the ditch banks, and up by the woods, making the round of our traps; the expectancy with which we peeped over the whitened weeds and through the bushes, to catch a glimpse of the gums in some "parf" or at some clearly marked "gap"; our disappointment when we found the door standing open and the trigger set just as we had left it the mormng before; our keen delight when the door was down; the dash for the trap; the scuffle to decide which should look in first; the peep at the brown ball screwed up back at the far end; the delicate operation, of getting the hare out of the trap; and the triumphant return home, holding up our spoil to be seen from afar. We were happier than we knew.

So far to show how we came to regard hares as our natural game, and how, though to be bird-hunters we had to grow up, we were hare-hunters as boys. The rush, the cheers, the yells, the excitement were a part of the sport, to us boys the best part.

Of course, to hunt hares we had to have dogs—at least boys must have—the noise, the dash, the chase are half the battle.

And such dogs as ours were!

It was not allowable to take bird-dogs after hares. I say it was not allowable; I do not say it was not done, for sometimes, of course, the pointers would come, and we could not make them go back. But the hare-dogs were the puppies and curs, terriers, watch-dogs, and the nondescript crew which belonged to the negroes, and to the plantation generally.