Tales of a Wayside Inn
Tales of a Wayside Inn
Book Excerpt
th him, tranquil and broad and deep, Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; And under the alders, that skirt its edge, Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.
It was twelve by the village clock When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmer's dog, And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down.
It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon.
It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadows brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bri
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FEATURED AUTHOR - Toni Dwiggins is a USA Today Bestselling author. She takes forensic mystery into thriller territory, bringing her characters from the lab to outdoor adventure. She has hiked the same trails, skied the same mountains, run the same river, and kayaked the same sea as her characters -- but she doesn't get into nearly the trouble that they do. As our Author of the Day, Dwiggins tells us all about her book, River Run.
Please give us a short introduction to what River Run is about:
Two forensic… Read more