The Reign of Law; a tale of the Kentucky hemp fields by James Lane Allen
page 158 of 245 (64%)
page 158 of 245 (64%)
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"Oh, grandmother, what is THAT?"
"Tut, tut, child! Don't you know what that is? That's hemp. That is what bales all our cotton." "Oh, grandmother, smell it!" After this sometimes Gabriella would order the driver to turn off into some green lane about sunset and press on till they found a field by the way. As soon as they began to pass it, over into their faces would be wafted the clean, cooling, velvet-soft, balsam breath of the hemp. The carriage would stop, and Gabriella, standing up and facing the field, would fill her lungs again and again, smiling at her grandmother for approval. Then she would take her seat and say quietly:-- "Turn round, Tom, and drive back. I have smelt it enough." These drives alone with her grandmother were for spring and early summer only. Full summer brought up from their plantations in Louisiana, Arkansas, and Mississippi, her uncles and the wives and children of some of them. All the bedrooms in the big house were filled, and Gabriella was nearly lost in the multitude, she being the only child of the only daughter of her grandmother. And now what happy times there were. The silks, and satins, and laces! The plate, the gold, the cut glass! The dinners, the music, the laughter, the wines! Later, some of her uncles' families might travel on with their servants to watering places farther north. But in September all |
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