Beadle's Dime Novels No. 47: Tim Bumble's Charge — page 8: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a 6 TIM BUMBLE’S CHARGE. run!” and the beautiful child-face put on a commiserating look. “Vis, Miss, it's a clare strame, it is,” said the man, pressing the wounded finger. “T']l go call Coraline—she knows every thing,” and away the child flew over the shining sand. It was the bank of a pleasant river, sweeping round in a bright half-circle, the soft, blue water changing and curling as it crept cozily up over the white sand. The banks further on the right were hung with vines, now bright with scarlet berries, and tall pines, whispering together, looked down with a protecting air upon them. Crowning this height stood a grand mansion, upon which the sun struck dazzlingly, throw- ing flakes of gold on the high, wide windows, burnishing the roof-tops, and making splendor where otherwise there had been but the sorry display of brick and mortar. The grounds ~ did not show from the spot where the man still sat nursing his wounded finger; but the little that could be seen gave evidence of great cultivation and no common taste. At the bottom of the hill, and from which Jed a gradually ascending ~ road, stood a very gem of a Oe which bent a solitary_weeping willow of great size and beauty. Near this pleasant place, beneath the shades of the pensile branches, a young girl of fifieen or sixteen sat_reading. She was too much absorbed in her story to see aught that was passing around her; even that the waters were lavishing fhite jewels at her very feet, and sparkling all over with opals and diamonds. Coraline Reynolds was what all who knew her called a lovely girl, sufficiently pretty to please by her sweet face, affectionate, with dignity enough to make her seem a very queen when the occasion required. She was 4 favorite = with every person in the village, from the white-robed rector : to the blundering net-mender, seated on the sand, and whom Arty had dignified with the name of Bumbledyhum. Coraline was started out of her dreaming at last, by hearing her name often called, and beholding, at no greatdistance, her little sister flying over the beach. ; ~ “Qh! Corry, do stop that reading,” cried the child. “ Bum- -bledyhum has cut himself almost to death. I mean he’s cut ‘his finger awfully,” she added, seeing her sister’s cheek grow GORE OOKSACORN