The farm, an old-fashioned stone house, was built. in 1673 and for three hundred years the people had been born in it and had farmed the surrounding land. george meadows was a man of fifty and his wife, mrs. george, were a year or two younger. they were both fine people in the prime of life. their three daughters were lovely and their two sons were handsome and strong. they had no notions about being gentlemen and ladies; they knew their place, were happy and deserved their happiness, as they were merry, satisfactionn and kindly. the master of the house was not george, but. his mother, who was twice the man her son was, as they said in the village. she was a woman of seventy, tall, upright, with gray hair and a wrinkled face. her eyes were bright and shrewd and she had a sense of humor. her word was law in the house and on the farm. in short, she was a character. one day mrs. george met me in the street. and told me that they had received a letter from their uncle george, whom those all thought dead. the letter informed them of his coming. «just fancy, » she said, «he hasn't been here for fifty years. and old mrs. meadows sits there and smiles to herself! all she says is that he was very good-looking, but not so steady as his brother tom! » mrs. george invited me to look in and see the old man. i accepted the invitation with joy, as i knew the story of uncle george meadows and it amused me because it was like an old ballad. it was touching to come across such a story in real life. more than fifty years ago, when mrs. meadows was emily green, a young charming girl, george and his younger brother tom both courted her. when emily married tom, george had gone to sea. for twenty years he sent them presents now and then; then there was no more news of him. after her husband's death emily wrote george about it, but never received an answer. and the previous day, to their greatest surprise they received his letter, in which he wrote that he was crippled with rheumatism and feeling he had not much longer to live, want d to return to the house in which he was born. when i came the whole family was assembled in the kitchen. i was amused to see that mrs. meadows was wearing her best silk dress. on the other side of the fireplace sat an old man with a wrinkled yellow face. he was very thin and his skin hung on his bones like an old suit too large for him. captain george, a he had called himself, told us that he had been so ill he thought he would never be able to get back, but the look of his old home had done him a lot of good. he said good-humouredly: «i feel now better and stronger than i have for many years, dear emily! » no one had called mrs. meadows by her christian name for a generation and it gave me a shock, as though the old man were taking a liberty with her. it was strange to look at these two old smiling people and to think that nearly half a century ago he had loved her and she had married another. найти изобразительно-выразительные средства на
they knew their place.
He eyes shrewd .
she was a character.
but not so steady as his brother.
wrinkled yellow face.
his skin hung on his boneslike an old suit too large for him.