sness of any impending change; and soon the women stood, with their shawls over their heads, down on the sandy, crescent-shaped beach, watching the last preparations.
It was an impressive scene, and never lost that quality to Sara's eyes, though she had been used to it since infancy. As she stood now, near but hardly a part of the noisy throng, she was about midway in the crescent, at either end of which there gleamed whitely through the morning mist the round tower of a lighthouse.
These were only nine miles apart as the bird flies, but over thirty when one followed the concave shore; and the eastern light warned of treacherous rocks jutting out in bold headlands and rugged cliffs, while the western served to guide the mariner past quite as treacherous shallows, and a sandy bar which showed like the shining back of some sea-monster at low-tide.
Within this natural harbor was the little fleet of sloops, smacks, and schooners, getting up sail, and shipping some last half-forgotten supplies
A sweet family story combining elements of Louisa May Alcott with those of Horatio Alger.
Bookish, 18-year-old Sara, a New England fisherman's daughter, and her three young siblings are left destitute orphans when their father is lost at sea. Sara takes her family to Boston to earn her fortune.
Though not everything goes well, Sara's goodness, beauty and piousness find her many helpful friends and opportunities. Her struggles against her solitary nature keep things from being too soppy.
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