The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Summer Evening's Dream, by Edward Bellamy

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.org

Title: A Summer Evening's Dream
1898

Author: Edward Bellamy

Release Date: September 21, 2007 [EBook #22705]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SUMMER EVENING'S DREAM ***

Produced by David Widger

A SUMMER EVENING'S DREAM

By Edward Bellamy

1898

It is a village street, with great elms on either side, while along the
middle stands another row set in a narrow strip of grassy common, so
that the street and roadway are in reality double. The dwellings on
either side are not only widely parted by the broad street, but are
still further isolated, each in its large garden of ancient fruit
trees. It is four o'clock of a sunny August afternoon, and a quiet,
Sabbath-like but for its lazy voluptuousness, broods over the scene.
No carriage, or even pedestrian, has passed for an hour. The occasional
voices of children at play in some garden, the latching of a gate far
down the street, the dying fall of a drowsy chanticleer, are but the
punctuation of the poem of summer silence that has been flowing on all
the afternoon. Upon the tree-tops the sun blazes brightly, and between
their stems are glimpses of outlying meadows, which simmer in the heat
as if about to come to a boil. But the shadowed street offers a cool
and refreshing vista to the eye, and a veritable valley of refuge to the
parched and dusty traveler along the highway.

On the broad piazza of one of the quaint old-fashioned houses, behind
a needless screen of climbing woodbine, two girls are whiling away the
afternoon. One of them is lounging in a lassy rocking-chair, while the
other sits more primly and is industriously sewing.

"I suppose you 'll be glad enough to see George when he comes to-night
to take you back to the city? I'm afraid you find it pretty dull
here," said the latter, with an intonation of uneasy responsibility
sufficiently attesting that the brilliant-looking girl opposite was a
guest.

That young lady, when addressed, was indulging in a luxurious country
yawn, an operation by no means to be hurried, but to be fully and lazily