The White Darkness; And Other Stories of the Great Northwest
Lawrence Mott
Paperback
(TheClassics.us, Sept. 12, 2013)
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1907 edition. Excerpt: ... One of Three !" Guillaume Bouchard shouted, crashing his heavy fist on the board counter. "Napoleon no de grreates' man en de worrl'! Dat feller ees Laurier, by Gar, Laurier!" Moutin, the storekeeper, leaned forward, his little black eyes sparkling with enjoyment of the argument. The store was close and hot, and the air thick with the reek and fumes of many pipes. Here were gathered all the gossips and wise men of the tiny Quebec village, according to time-worn custom, and the debate to-night was an especially good one. Old Pere Donvalle nodded slowly, then in the silence after Guillaume's assertion he took the clay pipe from his mouth, stroked his long, gray beard premeditatively and spoke: "Eon, Guillaume, mon garc.on, eef you t'ink no man so beeg en le monde as Laurier, vat you goin' say ven Ah say dat Laurier no so grand aslejesu Christ? Hein?" Murmurs from the group showed that this indeed was a hard proposition, and they all waited gravely for Bouchard's answer. The low-hanging lamp shed but weak rays of yellow light that scarce reached the walls, and only vaguely illumined the neat rows of frying pans and kettles that were strung in precise lines from the smoke-darkened roof beams. The clusters of rubber boots and shoepacks seemed blacker than ever, and bunches of brooms dangled forlornly at all angles. Guillaume, a huge lumberman of magnificent physique, viciously gnawed a chew of tobacco from his plug, and stared fixedly at the open door of the big round stove, whence came comfortable beams of heat. Moutin touched Bouchard playfully on the ear: "You an' Josephe an' Raphael, you got all arrange 'bout Lucille, hein?" "Par Dieu, non," Josephe Bouchard laughed from across the store, "broddaire Guillaume ees slow lak de molass'; run...