roadside find

[asakiyume]

Mugwort was what I set out for, as I have become addicted to mugwort tea.

Exhibit One: Mugwort



It's taller than me, which is something I love in a wildflower or weed.


But on my return, I found something wonderful by the side of the road: a book



It turns out to be King Spruce, by Holman Day. It was published in 1908.



Holman Day (1865-1935) was a Maine native, a journalist and newspaper publisher, and the author of twenty-three novels and three books of ballads. A scholarly article that wakanomori kindly procured for me dismisses the novels ("None of his publications, unfortunately, can be placed much above the level of the pot-boiler") but takes interest in the ballads. I think I'd like to find the ballads.

I think I'll try the book too, though. I opened at random and found this passage:

"And now, speaking of arresting in the name of the law," snarled the lumber baron, "and your duty that you seem so fond of, Rodlliff, get out your handcuffs for something that's worth while. It's three years in state-prison for maliciously setting fires on timber lands. It's a long vacation in the county jail for assaulting a man without provocation. There's the girl who set that fire; there's the man that struck me. So you see, Lane, your prisoner is going to have company."

Do you sense a villain?

Comments

[tooticky.livejournal.com]

You always find such interesting things on your walks. 'The Spruce King' definitely sounds like a ripping yarn - although the title makes me think of the troll king in Hans Christen Anderson rather than derring do. I do love the idea of random books released into the wild like that, and I'm glad you rescued it from the road.
Wonder how it got there? Flung from a car by someone maddened by the purple prose or early 20th century attitudes to forestry???

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

My prosaic guess is that it was destined for the local library as a donation to their ongoing book sale (you can get some fantastic old books at that--my younger daughter came back with one from 1823, if I recall correctly) and then fell off the back of the truck, as they say.

This book was written in that period in which the fear of the word "said" was at its height. Opening to another random two-page spread, we have people suggesting, remarking, breaking in [i.e., interrupting], growling, and shouting.

(To be fair, opening at another two-page spread, I find three instances of "said" and one "retorted")

Ooh, ooh, I just found an exciting illustration: Writhing at his bonds, his contorted face toward the red flames galloping up the valley OMG, the guy is tied up and a forest fire is coming!