Datasets:
AlekseyKorshuk
/
ai-detection-gutenberg-human

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
Community
1
human
stringlengths
15
5.09k
That was how it began. How it would have ended is not known—probably there would have been only one John—if it had not been for the almost miraculous appearance at this moment of the third John.
The modest women blushed. They were not used to speaking with such freedom.
The axe-man sent them a shout and threw up his arms for them to look. The tree stood out clear and beautiful against the gray sky; the men ceased their work and watched it.
Fancy! If you have an educated palate and are obliged to eat the strong distillation of buffalo meat, cooked in a pot which has been wiped out with the greasy petticoat of a squaw! When Ninon came down from St. Louis she brought with her a great box containing neither clothes, furniture, nor trinkets, but something much more wonderful! It was a marvellous compounding of spices and seasonings. The aromatic liquids she set before the enchanted men of the settlement bore no more relation to ordinary buffalo soup than Chateaubriand's Indian maidens did to one of the Pawnee girls, who slouched about the settlement with noxious tresses and sullen slavish coquetries.
Yet, for all their prosperity, not one addition did they make to that most simple home. It stood there, with its bare necessities, made beautiful only with their love. But when the winter was most gone, he made a little cradle of hard wood, in which she placed pillows of down, and over which she hung linen curtains embroidered by her hand.
“I want to go home,” was the only reply he got. “You must get the money, some way, for me to go home with.” “I haven't paid a cent of interest yet,” he cried angrily. “I don't see what you mean by being so unreasonable!” “You must get the money, some way,” she reiterated. He did not speak to her for a week, except when he was obliged to.
One day, as he painfully dragged himself down a residence street, he tried to collect his thoughts and form some plan for the future. He had no trade, understood no handiwork; he could fell trees.
Henderson had not seen her before for six weeks. Now he stared at her with frightened eyes.
I've often thought introductions were ridiculous. Fancy seeing a person year in and year out, and really knowing all about him, and being perfectly acquainted with his name—at least his or her name, you know—and then never speaking! Some one comes along, and says, 'Miss Le Baron, this is Mr. Culross,' just as if one didn't know that all the time! And there you are!
When they searched him they found nothing in his pockets but a silver thimble, and Joe Benson, the policeman who had brought in the “drunk,” gave it to the matron, with his compliments. But she, when no one noticed, went softly to where the man was sleeping, and slipped it back into his pocket, with a sigh. For she knew somehow—as women do know things—that he had not stolen that thimble. THE equinoctial line itself is not more imaginary than the line which divided the estates of the three Johns. The herds of the three Johns roamed at will, and nibbled the short grass far and near without let or hindrance; and the three Johns themselves were utterly indifferent as to boundary lines.
“And, besides, it always seems to me so material and so impertinent to build a little structure of stone and wood in which to worship God!” You see what he was like? He was frivolous, yet one could never tell when he would become eloquently earnest. Brainard went off suddenly Westward one day. I suspected that Jessica was at the bottom of it, but I asked no questions; and I did not hear from him for months. Then I got a letter from Colorado.
Ninon had fault to find neither with the wine nor the dances. They were all that one could have desired, and there was no limit to either of them. But still, after a time, even this grew tiresome to one of Ninon's spirit, and she took the first opportunity to sail up the Missouri with a certain young trapper connected with the great fur company, and so found herself at Cainsville, with the blue bluffs rising to the east of her, and the low white stretches of the river flats undulating down to where the sluggish stream wound its way southward capriciously.
His boots had high heels, and were of elegant leather and finely arched at the instep. His corduroys disappeared in them half-way up the thigh. About his waist a sash of blue held a laced shirt of the same color in place. Henderson puffed at his cigarette, and continued to look a trifle quizzical.
A note was left for him. He showed it to me. “There are times,” it ran, “when we must do as we must, not as we would.
I said, let them talk if they want to, but I'm going to hold down a claim, and be accumulating something while the children are getting up a bit.
“Lay the child down,” Jim would say impatiently, while the men would tell how their wives always put the babies on the bed and let them cry if they wanted to. Annie said nothing, but she hushed the little one with tender songs.
I was the only one there who hadn't done something. I guess it's because I am too healthy.” “How did Mrs. Brainard like such a motley crew?” “She was wonderful—perfectly wonderful! Those insulting creatures were all studying her, and she knew it. But her dignity was perfect, and she looked as proud as a Sioux chief.
She could see that the children were crying with fright, but she could not hear them. The air was dusky; the cold, in spite of the fire, intolerable. In every crevice of the wretched structure the ice and snow made their way.
“I have no right to be comfortable and hopeful, and to have friends, with you shut up from liberty and happiness. I will not have those comfortable rooms, after all.
The river was not yet open, and the belated boats with needed supplies were moored far down the river.
The little school that the priest started had been long since abandoned. It was only the preservation of life that one thought of in these days.
I was glad when Jessica came home to set up our little establishment and to join in the autumn gayeties. Brainard brought his wife to the city soon after, and went to housekeeping in an odd sort of a way. “I couldn't see anything in the place save curios,” Jessica reported, after her first call on them. “I suppose there is a cookingstove somewhere, and maybe even a pantry with pots in it.
“He is the kindest man that ever lived.” “Oh, well, I didn't know.” A rather awkward pause followed which was broken by Roeder. “I don't see jest what I'm goin' t' do with that thar two hundred thousand dollars,” he said, mournfully. “Do with it? Why, live with it!
That was years ago, but he had an idea that he might find her. He was not troubled by his lack of resources; he did not believe that any man would want for a meal unless he were “shiftless.” He had always been able to turn his hand to something. He felt too ill from the jostling of the cars to notice much of anything on the journey. The dizzy scenes whirling past made him faint, and he was glad to lie with closed eyes.
I tried to be as gay as you, and to live your sort of life; but I could not do it.
“I guess you thought you was in civilized parts.” Two days after this Waite came in late to his supper. “Well, I seen her,” he announced.
For just then the two belligerents found themselves prostrate, their pistols only half-cocked, and between them stood a man all gnarled and squat, like one of those wind-torn oaks which grow on the arid heights.
“I've been in these parts twenty years. When I come here, I thought I was goin' to make a fortune right off.
What he said later explained the reason. “I would have liked to have brought you a fine present,” he said. “It seemed shabby to come with nothing but that little ring.
Transcriber's Note: I have omitted signature designations and have closed abbreviations, e.g., “do n't” becoming “don't,” etc. In addition, I have made the following changes to the text: MOST of the tales in this little book have been printed before. “A Mountain Woman” appeared in Harper's Weekly, as did “The Three Johns” and “A Resuscitation.” “Jim Lancy's Waterloo” was printed in the Cosmopolitan, “A Michigan Man” in Lippincott's, and “Up the Gulch” in Two Tales. The courtesy of these periodicals in permitting the stories to be republished is cordially acknowledged.
“There's no one left to care what becomes of us,” she told them, bitterly. “We might starve out here for all that any one cares.” And all through the night her tears fell, and she told herself that they were all for the man whose last thought was for her and her babies; she told herself over and over again that her tears were all for him. After this the autumn began to hurry on, and the snow fell capriciously, days of biting cold giving place to retrospective glances at summer.
Besides, when you are young, it is much easier to act than to pray. When the children cried for food, Father de Smet took down the rifle from the wall and went out with it, coming back only when he could feed the hungry.
Annie ran with it to her room, and tried such remedies as she had. But nothing could keep the chill from creeping over the wasted little form,—not even the heat of the day, not even the mother's agonized embrace.
I've had a month of it. I'm goin' back up th' gulch.” “No!” cried Kate, instinctively reaching out her hands toward him.
Lenten service had been out of the question. The living had neither time nor strength to come to worship; and the dead were not given the honor of a burial from church in these times of terror.
It seems very beautiful to me here. And then you will have so much life to divert you.” “Life? But there is always that everywhere.”
And I do not in any way mean to insult you when I tell you to stop your coming here.
These things make happiness. They are nature. But then, you cannot understand.
You never feel shut in. You can always see off. I feel at home after I get in Nebraska. I'd choke back where you live, with all those little gullies and the trees everywhere. It's a mystery to me how farmers have patience to work there.”
Buds,' I have cried to them, 'do not dare to open yet, or you will be horribly passee by Easter. Have the kindness, will you, to save yourselves for a great event.' And they did it; yes, father, you may not believe, but no later than this morning these sensible flowers opened up their leaves boldly, quite conscious that they were doing the right thing, and to-morrow, if you please, they will be here.
The train was starting. The major came bustling in. “Well, good-by,” said Roeder, holding out his hand to Kate. “Good-by,” she cried. “Don't go back up the gulch.” “Oh,” he said, reassuringly, “don't you worry about me, my—don't worry.
Beside me was a tall, black-robed figure. I saw her look back with that expression of deprivation at the sky line. “It's like living after the world has begun to die,” said the pensive minor voice. “It seems as if part of the world had been taken down.” “Brainard,” I yelled, “come here! I have it.
And I am sure I can get along without them. I do not think this will make you feel very bad. You haven't seemed to notice me very much lately when I've been around, and I do not think you will notice very much when I am gone. I know what this means. I know I am breaking my word when I leave you.
I read reports in the papers about her unique receptions. I saw her name printed conspicuously among the list of those who attended all sorts of dinners and musicales and evenings among the set that affected intellectual pursuits. She joined a number of women's clubs of an exclusive kind. “She is doing whatever her husband tells her to,” said Jessica. “Why, the other day I heard her ruining her voice on 'Siegfried'!” But from day to day I noticed a difference in her.
“A LIGHT wind blew from the gates of the sun,” the morning she first walked down the street of the little Iowa town. Not a cloud flecked the blue; there was a humming of happy insects; a smell of rich and moist loam perfumed the air, and in the dusk of beeches and of oaks stood the quiet homes.
“What are little lines drawn in the imagination of men, dividing territory, that they should divide our sympathies? The world is my country—and yours, I hope.
“You have sech beautiful things,” he said. “I didn't know women wore sech nice things.
It is marvellous how sorrow shrinks when one is very healthy and very much occupied. Although poverty was her close companion, Catherine had no thought of it in this primitive manner of living. She had come out there, with the independence and determination of a Western woman, for the purpose of living at the least possible expense, and making the most she could while the baby was “getting out of her arms.” That process has its pleasures, which every mother feels in spite of burdens, and the mind is happily dulled by nature's merciful provision. With a little child tugging at the breast, care and fret vanish, not because of the happiness so much as because of a certain mammal complacency, which is not at all intellectual, but serves its purpose better than the profoundest method of reasoning. So without any very unbearable misery at her recent widowhood, this healthy young woman worked in field and house, cared for her little ones, milked the two cows out in the corral, sewed, sang, rode, baked, and was happy for very wholesomeness.
She developed a terrible activity. She took personal charge of the affairs of her house; she united with Leroy in keeping the house filled with guests; she got on the board of a hospital for little children, and spent a part of every day among the cots where the sufferers lay. Now and then when we spent a quiet evening alone with her and Leroy, she sewed continually on little white night-gowns for these poor babies.
Why should I grudge you a glimpse of my happiness? She saw me when I touched her hand, not before, so wrapped was she. But she did not seem surprised. Only in her splendid eyes there came a large content.
He dropped his head in his arms and broke into uncontrolled crying. “Oh, my God, Gillispie,” he sobbed, “I shall die out here in this wretched hole! I want my mother. Great God, Gillispie, am I going to die without ever seeing my mother?” Gillispie, maddened at this anguish, which he could in no way alleviate, sought comfort by first lighting his pipe and then taking his revolver out of his hip-pocket and playing with it. Henderson continued to shake with sobs, and Catherine, who had never before in her life heard a man cry, leaned against the door for a moment to gather courage.
“Here's my card,” he said, very solemnly, as he drew an engraved bit of pasteboard from its leather case. Kate bowed and took it. “Mr.
The chopper awoke to the realization of three stone walls and an iron grating in front. Through this he looked out upon a stone flooring across which was a row of similar apartments. He neither knew nor cared where he was. The feeling of imprisonment was no greater than he had felt on the endless, cheerless streets. He laid himself on the bench that ran along a side wall, and, closing his eyes, listened to the babble of the clear stream and the thunder of the “drive” on its journey.
Of course the rest of the evening was a chaos to him. The throat down which he poured the liquor was as tender as a child's. The men turned his head with their ironical compliments.
Then she sang, her voice a wonderful contralto, cold at times, and again lit up with gleams of passion. The music itself was fitful, now full of joy, now tender, and now sad: “She has a genius for feeling, hasn't she?” Leroy whispered to me. “A genius for feeling!” I repeated, angrily. “Man, she has a heart and a soul and a brain, if that is what you mean! I shouldn't think you would be able to look at her from the standpoint of a critic.”
Then the season began to show signs of opening,—bleak signs, hardly recognizable to Annie; and after that Jim was not much in the house. The weeks wore on, and spring came at last, dancing over the hills. The ground-birds began building, and at four each morning awoke Annie with their sylvan opera. The creek that ran just at the north of the house worked itself into a fury and blustered along with much noise toward the great Platte which, miles away, wallowed in its vast sandy bed. The hills flushed from brown to yellow, and from mottled green to intensest emerald, and in the superb air all the winds of heaven seemed to meet and frolic with laughter and song.
Swiftest of the college runners was John Hartington, famed for his leaping too, and measuring widest at the chest and waist of all the hearty fellows at the university. His blond curls clustered above a brow almost as innocent as a child's; his frank and brave blue eyes, his free step, his mellow laugh, bespoke the perfect animal, unharmed by civilization, unperplexed by the closing century's fallacies and passions. The wholesome oak that spreads its roots deep in the generous soil, could not be more a part of nature than he. Conscientious, unimaginative, direct, sincere, industrious, he was the ideal man of his kind, and his return to town caused a flutter among the maidens which they did not even attempt to conceal. They told him all the chat, of course, and, among other things, mentioned the great sensation of the year,—the coming of the woman with her mystery, the purchase of the sunny upland, the planting it with clover and with mignonette, the building of the house of logs, the keeping of the bees, the barren rooms, the busy, silent life, the charities, the never-ending wonder of it all.
The man laughed out loud,—a laugh quite out of proportion to the mild good humor of the remark; but it was evident that he could no longer conceal his delight at this companionship. “How about raisin' flowers?” he asked. “Are you strong on that?” “I've only to look at a plant to make it grow,” Kate cried, with enthusiasm. “When my friends are in despair over a plant, they bring it to me, and I just pet it a little, and it brightens up. I've the most wonderful fernery you ever saw.
Then she almost threw it from her. The eyes which she lifted to scan the bright young face above her had something like agony in them. Annie blushed under this fierce scrutiny, and the woman, suddenly conscious of her demeanor, forced a smile to her lips.
I am sure I have imagined everything just as it was. I begged papa to help you, but he was very angry. You see, papa was so peculiar. He thought more of the appearances of things, perhaps, than of facts. It infuriated him to think of me as being concerned about you or with you.
It's green, summer and winter. Hundreds of people stop and look up at it, it is so green and enticing, there above the city streets.”
It was hot there, too! And cold! Always roastin' ur freezin'. It'd been different if I'd had any one t' help me stand it.
Give a nation two winters of grippe, and it will have an epidemic of suicide. Give it starvation and small-pox, and it will have a contagion of murders. There are subtle laws underlying these things,—laws which the physicians think they can explain; but they are mistaken. The reason is not so material as it seems.
The conductor stopped by Luther's seat and said that they were in the city at last; but it seemed to the sick man as if they went miles after that, with a multitude of twinkling lights on one side and a blank darkness, that they told him was the lake, on the other.
Then your voice! Ah, I've thought fur years that some day I might hear a voice like that! Don't you go! Sit still! I'm not blamin' you fur anythin'; but I may never, 's long's I live, find any one who will understand things th' way you understand 'em.
So that night they started. At the door of the carriage stood Peter Roeder, waiting. “I'm going t' ride down with you,” he said. The major looked nonplussed. Kate got in and the major followed.
The funereal green seemed to grow darker and darker till it became black. It was the embodiment of sorrow.
It was the interior of a rich room,—crimson and amber fabrics, flowers, the gleam of a statue beyond the drapings; the sound of a tender piano unflinging a familiar melody, and a woman. She was just a part of all the luxury. He himself, very timid and conscious of his awkwardness, sat near, trying barrenly to get some of his thoughts out of his brain on to his tongue. “Strange, isn't it,” the woman broke in on her own music, “that we have seen each other so very often and never spoken?
And though it is so sweet to hear you speak, your voice is no more beautiful than I thought it would be. I have loved you a long time, and I want to know—” The broken man in the shadow remembered how the lad stopped, astonished at his boldness and his fluency, overcome suddenly at the thought of what he was saying. The music stopped with a discord. The girl arose, trembling and scarlet. “I would not have believed it of you,” she cries, “to take advantage of me like this, when I am alone—and—everything.
But no one dared take liberties with the holy father. The thrust from his shoulder was straight and sure, and his fist was hard.
But he is my dear friend anyway, though he is dead, and I never saw him; and I want you to hear some of his words.”
For her there was no longer anticipation of joy, or present companionship, or any divertissement in the whole world. Jim read books which she did not understand, and with a few of his friends, who dropped in now and then evenings or Sundays, talked about these books in an excited manner.
The Brainards were tired with their journey, and left us early. When they were gone, Jessica burst into eulogy.
I know it well enough. And I know you haven't had a very good opinion of me lately.
“I'm not tired. I can ride all day. Where I come from, we have to ride if we want to go anywhere; but here there seems to be no particular place to—to reach.” “Are you so utilitarian?” I asked, laughingly. “Must you always have some reason for everything you do? I do so many things just for the mere pleasure of doing them, I'm afraid you will have a very poor opinion of me.”
He went to the bank which held his notes. “I'll confess judgment as soon as you like,” he said.
But all I saw was Alaska totems and Navajo blankets. They have as many skins around on the floor and couches as would have satisfied an ancient Briton. And everybody was calling there. You know Mr. Brainard runs to curios in selecting his friends as well as his furniture. The parlors were full this afternoon of abnormal people, that is to say, with folks one reads about.
She threw her head back and laughed like a girl from school, and he laughed too, and they shook hands.
Her body would not have yielded to the suffering yet, so strongly made and sustained was it; but her dismay stifled her. She saw in one horrified moment the frozen forms of her babies, now so pink and pleasant to the sense; and oblivion came to save her from further misery.
He wrapped his great buffalo-coat about him, and answered the summons. Without in the damp darkness stood Pierre. “Father,” he cried, “Ninon has sent for you. Since she left you, she has been very ill.