Travels in a Tree-top E-Book

Charles Conrad Abbott

• Herausgeber: Charles Conrad Abbott
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Travels in a Tree-top written by an American archaeologist and naturalist Charles Conrad Abbott.  This book is one of many works by him. It has already Published in 1894. Now republish in ebook format. We believe this work is culturally important in its original archival form. While we strive to adequately clean and digitally enhance the original work, there are occasionally instances where imperfections such as blurred or missing pages, poor pictures or errant marks may have been introduced due to either the quality of the original work. Despite these occasional imperfections, we have brought it back into print as part of our ongoing global book preservation commitment, providing customers with access to the best possible historical reprints. We appreciate your understanding of these occasional imperfections, and sincerely hope you enjoy reading this book.

Leseprobe

Travels in a Tree-top

By

Charles Conrad Abbott

Table of Contents

CHAPTER FIRST TRAVELS IN A TREE-TOP

CHAPTER SECOND A HUNT FOR THE PYXIE

CHAPTER THIRD THE COMING OF THE BIRDS

CHAPTER FOURTH THE BUILDING OF THE NEST

CHAPTER FIFTH CORN-STALK FIDDLES

CHAPTER SIXTH THE OLD KITCHEN DOOR

CHAPTER SEVENTH UP THE CREEK

CHAPTER EIGHTH A WINTER-NIGHT’S OUTING

CHAPTER NINTH WILD LIFE IN WATER

CHAPTER TENTH AN OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN

CHAPTER ELEVENTH AN INDIAN TRAIL

CHAPTER TWELFTH .A PRE-COLUMBIAN DINNER

CHAPTER THIRTEENTH A DAY’S DIGGING

CHAPTER FOURTEENTH DRIFTING

CHAPTER FIFTEENTH FOOTPRINTS

CHAPTER SIXTEENTH FOOTPRINTS

CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH DEAD LEAVES

An Old-fashioned GardenBy Alice Barber Stephens

CHAPTER FIRST TRAVELS IN A TREE-TOP

A pearly mist shut out the river, the meadows, and every field for miles. I could not detect the ripple of the outgoing tide, and the heartiest songster sent no cheerful cry above the wide-spreading and low-lying cloud; but above all this silent, desolate, and seemingly deserted outlook there was a wealth of sunshine and a canopy of deep-blue sky. Here and there, as islands in a boundless sea, were the leafy tops of a few tall trees, and these, I fancied, were tempting regions to explore. Travels in a tree-top—surely, here we have a bit of novelty in this worn-out world.

Unless wholly wedded to the town, it is not cheering to think of the surrounding country as worn out. It is but little more than two centuries since the home-seeking folk of other lands came here to trick or trade with the Indians, wild as the untamed world wherein they dwelt; and now we look almost in vain for country as Nature fashioned it. Man may make of a desert a pleasant place, but he also unmakes the forest and bares the wooded hills until as naked and desolate as the fire-swept ruins of his own construction. It is but a matter of a few thousand cart-loads of the hill moved to one side, and the swamp that the farmer dreads because it yields no dollars is obliterated. He has never considered its wealth of suggestiveness. “A fig for the flowers and vermin. I must plant more corn.”