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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Seaboard Parish Volume 1"

I had to set down the precious burden rather
oftener before we reached the brow of the cliffs than would have
been necessary ten years before. But this was all right, and the
newly-discovered weakness then was strength to the power which carries me
about on my two legs now. It is all right still. I shall be stronger by and
by.
We carried her high enough for her to see the brilliant waters lying many
feet below her, with the sea-birds of which we had talked winging their
undulating way between heaven and ocean. It is when first you have a chance
of looking a bird in the face on the wing that you know what the marvel of
flight is. There it hangs or rests, which you please, borne up, as far as
eye or any of the senses can witness, by its own will alone. This Connie,
quicker than I in her observation of nature, had already observed. Seated
on the warm grass by her side, while neither talked, but both regarded the
blue spaces, I saw one of those same barb-winged birds rest over my head,
regarding me from above, as if doubtful whether I did not afford some claim
to his theory of treasure-trove. I knew at once that what Connie had been
saying to me just before was true.


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