"Up, boy, up!" cried the lime-burner, staring about him. "Thank
Heaven, the night is gone, at last; and rather than pass such another,
I would watch, my lime-kiln, wide awake, for a twelvemonth. This Ethan
Brand, with his humbug of an Unpardonable Sin, has done me no such
mighty favor, in taking my place!"
He issued from the hut, followed by little Joe, who kept fast hold, of
his father's hand. The early sunshine was already pouring its gold
upon the mountain tops; and though the valleys were still in shadow,
they smiled cheerfully in the promise of the bright day that was
hastening onward. The village, completely shut in by hills, which
swelled away gently about it, looked as if it had rested peacefully in
the hollow of the great hand of Providence. Every dwelling was
distinctly visible; the little spires of the two churches pointed
upwards, and caught a fore-glimmering of brightness from the sun-gilt
skies upon their gilded weathercocks. The tavern was astir, and the
figure of the old, smoke-dried stage-agent, cigar in mouth, was seen
beneath the stoop. Old Graylock was glorified with a golden cloud upon
his head. Scattered likewise over the breasts of the surrounding
mountains, there were heaps of hoary mist, in fantastic shapes, some
of them far down into the valley, others high up towards the summits,
and still others, of the same family of mist or cloud, hovering in the
gold radiance of the upper atmosphere.
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