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Staccato Notes of a Vanished Summer (from Literature and Life)
Staccato Notes of a Vanished Summer (from Literature and Life)
Staccato Notes of a Vanished Summer (from Literature and Life)
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Staccato Notes of a Vanished Summer (from Literature and Life)

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LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 27, 2013
Staccato Notes of a Vanished Summer (from Literature and Life)
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William Dean Howells

William Dean Howells was a realist novelist, literary critic, and playwright, nicknamed "The Dean of American Letters". He was particularly known for his tenure as editor of The Atlantic Monthly, as well as for his own prolific writings.

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    Staccato Notes of a Vanished Summer (from Literature and Life) - William Dean Howells

    The Project Gutenberg EBook of Staccato Notes of a Vanished Summer by William Dean Howells

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

    Title: Staccato Notes of a Vanished Summer From Literature and Life

    Author: William Dean Howells

    Release Date: October 22, 2004 [EBook #3380]

    Language: English

    *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STACCATO NOTES OF A VANISHED ***

    Produced by David Widger

    LITERATURE AND LIFE—Staccato Notes of a Vanished Summer

    by William Dean Howells

    STACCATO NOTES OF A VANISHED SUMMER

    Monday afternoon the storm which had been beating up against the southeasterly wind nearly all day thickened, fold upon fold, in the northwest. The gale increased, and blackened the harbor and whitened the open sea beyond, where sail after sail appeared round the reef of Whaleback Light, and ran in a wild scamper for the safe anchorages within.

    Since noon cautious coasters of all sorts had been dropping in with a casual air; the coal schooners and barges had rocked and nodded knowingly to one another, with their taper and truncated masts, on the breast of the invisible swell; and the flock of little yachts and pleasure-boats which always fleck the bay huddled together in the safe waters. The craft that came scurrying in just before nightfall were mackerel seiners from Gloucester. They were all of one graceful shape and one size; they came with all sail set, taking the waning light like sunshine on their flying-jibs, and trailing each two dories behind them, with their seines piled in black heaps between the thwarts. As soon as they came inside their jibs weakened and fell, and the anchor-chains rattled from their bows. Before the dark hid them we could have counted sixty or seventy ships in the harbor, and as the night

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