The Gilded Age, Part 7. by Charles Dudley Warner;Mark Twain
page 73 of 83 (87%)
page 73 of 83 (87%)
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presently turned on his heel and thought, rather than said:
"No, this is useless, this is absurd. If I found anything it would only be one of those little aggravating seams of coal which doesn't mean anything, and--" By this time he was walking out of the tunnel. His thought ran on: "I am conquered . . . . . . I am out of provisions, out of money. . . . . I have got to give it up . . . . . . All this hard work lost! But I am not conquered! I will go and work for money, and come back and have another fight with fate. Ah me, it may be years, it may, be years." Arrived at the mouth of the tunnel, he threw his coat upon the ground, sat down on, a stone, and his eye sought the westering sun and dwelt upon the charming landscape which stretched its woody ridges, wave upon wave, to the golden horizon. Something was taking place at his feet which did not attract his attention. His reverie continued, and its burden grew more and more gloomy. Presently he rose up and, cast a look far away toward the valley, and his thoughts took a new direction: "There it is! How good it looks! But down there is not up here. Well, I will go home and pack up--there is nothing else to do" He moved off moodily toward his cabin. He had gone some distance before |
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