Digital heart book

At an early hour we were again on our way,
rowing through the fog as before, the river already awake, and a
million crisped waves come forth to meet the sun when he should
show himself. The countrymen, recruited by their day of rest,
were already stirring, and had begun to cross the ferry on the
business of the week. This ferry was as busy as a beaver dam,
and all the world seemed anxious to get across the Merrimack
River at this particular point, waiting to get set over,--children
with their two cents done up in paper, jail-birds broke loose
and constable with warrant, travellers from distant lands to
distant lands, men and women to whom the Merrimack River was a
bar. There stands a gig in the gray morning, in the mist, the
impatient traveller pacing the wet shore with whip in hand, and
shouting through the fog after the regardless Charon and his
retreating ark, as if he might throw that passenger overboard and
return forthwith for himself; he will compensate him. He is to
break his fast at some unseen place on the opposite side.


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