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Other articles where Rose of Dutcher's Coolly is discussed: Hamlin Garland: His next novel, Rose of Dutcher's Coolly (), tells the story of a sensitive young.
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Curly- haired Carl kept with Rose, and his sharp eyes and knowledge of the patch enabled them to fill their pails first; then they went about help ing the others, whose voices babbled on like streams.

Rose of Dutcher's Coolly. [A Novel.] - Scholar's Choice Edition

Everywhere the pink sun-bonnets and ragged straw hats bobbed up and down. The sunlight fell in vivid yellow patches through the cool odorous gloom.

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Everywhere the faint odor of ferns and man drakes and berries, and the faint rustle of leaves, as if the shadows of the clouds trampled the tree-tops. There was something sweet and wild and primeval in the scene, and the children were carried out of their usual selves.

The Rose of Sharon

Rose herself danced and romped, her eyes flashing with delight. Under her direction they all came to gether on a little slope, where the trees were less thick, and near a brook which gurgled through moss-covered stones.


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Their buttered biscuits were spread with berries and mixed with water from the brook, which the girls drank like the boys, that is, by lying down on their breasts and drinking as the hunter drinks. Their hunger eased they fell to games. Games centuries old. Games which the Skandinavians played in the edges of their pine forests. Games the English lads and las sies played in the oak-openings of middle-age England. Go choose you east, go choose you west, Go choose the one that you love best. They stood together now, holding hands. Salute your bride with a kiss so sweet," Carl kissed her gravely " Now you rise upon your feet.

The fresh young voices rang under the spaces of the trees, silencing the joy of the thrush.

Rose of Dutcher's Coolly - University of Nebraska Press : Nebraska Press

The flecking sunlight fell on their towsled hair and their flushed faces. They had forgotten home and kindred, and were liv ing a strange new-old life, old as history, wild and free once more, and in their hearts some thing bloomed like a flower, something sweet shook them all, something unutterable and nameless, something magnificent to attain and sorrowful to lose.

Some of the girls made wreaths of flowers strung on grass stems, while the boys studied the insects under the chips and stumps, or came slyly behind the girls and stuck spears of fox-tail down their necks. Some of them rolled down the bank. Carl, when he was tired of this, came and lay down by Rose, and put his head in her lap. Other bridegrooms did the same with their brides. Some of the boys matched violets, by seeing which would hook the other's head off. Silence fell on them.

Rose of Dutcher's Coolly

Some passion thrilled Rose as she looked down into Carl's sunny blue eyes. She brushed his hair as he looked up at the clouds sailing above the trees like wonderful mountains of snow. She was thirteen years of age, but prophecy of womanhood, of change, of sorrow, was in her voice as she said slowly, a look not childish upon her face : " I'd like to live here forever, would n't you, Carl?

She felt a terrible hunger, a desire to take his head in her arms and kiss it. Her muscles ached and quivered with something she could not fathom. The leaves whispered a mes sage to her, and the stream repeated an occult note of joy, which was mixed with sorrow.

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The struggle of wild fear and bitter-sweet hunger of desire this vague, mystical percep tion of her sex, did not last, to Rose. It was lost when she came out of the wood into the road on the way homeward. It was a formless impulse and throbbing stir far down below defi nite thought. It was sweet and wild and inno cent as the first coquettish love-note of the thrush, and yet it was the beginning of her love-life. It was the second great epoch of her life.

Most of the women she did not like, but one sweet and thoughtful girl had her unbounded love and confidence. She was from Madison, that was in itself a great distinction, for the capital of the state had come to mean something great and beautiful and heroic to Rose. There it was the governor lived. There the soldiers went to enter the army, she remembered hearing the neighbors say, and her father's weekly paper was printed there. It was a great thing to have come from so far away and from Madison, and Rose hung about the door of the school house at the close of the first day, hoping the teacher would permit her to walk home by her side.

The young teacher, worried almost to de spair over the arrangement of her classes, did not rise from her desk until the sun was low, rolling upon the tree-fringed ridge of the west ern bluff. She talked about the flowers in the grass, and Rose ran to and fro, climbing fences to pick all sorts that she knew. She did not laugh when the teacher told her the botanical names. She wished she could remem ber them.

But you must run home now, it 's almost dark. It was well Rose turned to her for help, for most of her teachers had not the refinement of Miss Lavalle. They were generally farmers' daughters or girls from neighboring towns, who taught for a little extra money to buy dresses with worthy girls indeed, but they expressed less of refining thought to the children. One day this young teacher, with Rose and two or three other little ones, was sitting on a sunny southward sloping swell. She was small and dark and dainty, and still carried the emotional char acteristics of her French ancestry.

She saw nature definitely, and did not scruple to say so. Then her flowers dropped to the ground, the sunlight fell upon her with a richer glow, the dandelions shone like stars in a heaven of green, the birds and the wind sang a wild clear song in the doors of her ears, and her heart swelled with unutterable emotion.

She was overpowered by the beauty of the world, as she had been by its immensity that day on the hill top with her father. She saw the purple mists, the smooth, green, warm slopes dotted with dandelions, and the woodlands with their amber, and purple-gray, and gray-green foliage. The big world had grown distinctly beautiful to her.

Rose of Dutcher's Coolly Chapters

It was as though a gray veil had been withdrawn from the face of created things but this perception did not last. The veil fell again before her eyes when the presence of the teacher was withdrawn. The men, who taught in winter, were blunt and crude, but occasionally one of a high type came. Some young fellows studying law, or taking a course at some school, teaching to keep their place or to go higher.

These men studied nights and mornings out of great Latin books which were the wonder of the children. Such teachers appealed to the better class of pupils with great power, but excited rebellion in others. It seemed a wonderful and important day to Rose, the first time she entered the scarred and greasy room in winter, because it was swarming with big girls and boys. She toolc her seat at one of the little benches on the north side of the room, where all the girls sat. At some far time the girls had been put on that, the coldest side of the house, and they still sat there ; change was impossible.

Rose was a little bit awed by the scene. The big boys never seemed so rough, and the big girls never seemed so tall. They were all talking loudly, hanging about the old square stove which sat in the middle of a puddle of bricks. In winter also her physical superiority to the other girls was less apparent, for she wore thick shoes and shapeless dresses and muffled her head and neck like the boys. She plodded to school along the deep sleigh tracks, facing a bitter wind, with the heart of a man.

It made her cry sometimes but there was more of rage than fear in her sobbing. She coughed and wheezed like the rest, but through it all her perfect lungs and sinewy heart carried her triumphantly. The winter she was fourteen years of age she had for teacher a girl whose beautiful pres ence brought a curse with it.

She was small and graceful, with a face full of sudden tears and laughter and dreams of desire.