Saturday morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and
brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued
at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust trees were in
bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and
above it was green with vegetation, and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land,
dreamy, reposeful, and inviting.
Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He
surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his
spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a
burden. Sighing he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the
operation: did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching
continent of un-whitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping
out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing "Buffalo Gals." Bringing water from the town pump
had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He
remembered that there was company at the pump. Boys and girls from the neighbourhood were
Answers
Answer:
I would've telling you
Explanation:
Saturday morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and
brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued
at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust trees were in
bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and
above it was green with vegetation, and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land,
dreamy, reposeful, and inviting.
Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He
surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his
spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a
burden. Sighing he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the
operation: did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching
continent of un-whitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping
out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing "Buffalo Gals." Bringing water from the town pump
had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He
remembered that there was company at the pump. Boys and girls from the neighbourhood were