Excerpt from Dwellers in the Mist Once a week, and he has become a dreamer Of 'dreams, a gazer at clouds, a listener to the voices Of the sea. Thither he brought his wife from the great city; she would be there but a little while, he told her; and 'mid his loneliness she alone could cheer and comfort him. When the little child came to them he was at rest. On the long winter nights by his peat fire he loved to bury himself in his books. Sometimes it would be Gibbon, sometimes the ponderous pages Of Milman; but he would suddenly sit up and listen eagerly when he heard the patter of little feet along the long, agged lobby which led from his study to the back Of the windy manse. He knew well what followed the impatient tapping of little hands at the closed 'door, the imperious childish cry, Ope' doo', Dada, ope' doo' the clambering up on his knees, and the throwing away Of his books in Obedience to the order, Bookie away, Dada, bookie away! And the half-hour Of perfect contentment as he played hide and seek in the dark corners where the shadows cast by the. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.

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