“—THOMAS JEFFERSON, LETTER TO W. SHORT, April 13, 1820 I seem stark mute, but inwardly I prate, I am, and am not, I freeze and yet am burned, Since from myself my other self I turned. —ELIZABETH I (1533–1603), FINIS, ELIZA REGINA, ASHMOLEAN MUSEUM MANUSCRIPT The last two weeks in March had been gray with cold rain that beat down the seedlings in the garden and made the pasture a swamp, but this, the first day of April, dawned clear, the sun drawing a mist of steam from the rooftops and field...s. When the morning chores were finished, Mary took a bucket and chisel and set out for the beach. The tide was unusually low, exposing the rocks—and the mussels growing on them—at the base of the Knob, and tonight they would feast on mussel chowder. Yorick followed her, and she didn’t discourage him, although he had a tendency to wander. She took the silent whistle; he always responded to that. Yorick was the image of Sparky, one of the litter born to fey Ophelia last fall, the last litter Sparky had fathered.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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