A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
"Camelot - Camelot," said I to myself. "I don't seem to remember hearing of it
before. Name of the asylum, likely."
It was a soft, reposeful summer landscape, as lovely as a dream, and as lonesome
as Sunday. The air was full of the smell of flowers, and the buzzing of insects,
and the twittering of birds, and there were no people, no wagons, there was no
stir of life, nothing going on. The road was mainly a winding path with
hoofprints in it, and now and then a faint trace of wheels on either side in the
grass - wheels that apparently had a tire as broad as one's hand.
Presently a fair slip of a girl, about ten years old, with a cataract of golden
hair streaming down over her shoulders, came long. Around her head she wore a
hoop of flame-red poppies. It was as sweet an outfit as I ever saw, what there
was of it. She walked indolently along, with a mind at rest, its peace reflected
in her innocent face. The circus man paid no attention to her; didn't even seem
to see her. And she - she was no more startled at his fantastic makeup than if
she was used to his like every day of her life. She was going by as
indifferently ... read full excerpt from Enriched Classics: A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court ebook
