Kuhusu kitabu pepe hiki
Beneath the verandah of a handsome, comfortable-looking residence near Georgetown, the principal town of British Guiana, a young man sat one morning early in the year 1890, attentively studying a volume that lay open on a small table before him. It was easy to see that he was reading something that was, for him at least, of more than ordinary interest, something that seemed to carry his thoughts far away from the scene around him; for when, presently, he raised his eyes from the book, they looked out straight before him with a gaze that evidently saw nothing of that on which they rested.
He was a handsome young fellow of, perhaps, twenty-two years of age, rather tall, and well-made, with light wavy hair, and blue-grey eyes that had in them an introspective, somewhat dreamy expression, but that nevertheless could light up on occasion with an animated glance.
The house stood on a terrace that commanded a view of the sea, and, in the distance, white sails could be seen making their way across the blue water in the light breeze and the dazzling sunlight. Nearer at hand were waving palms, glowing flowers, humming insects and gaudily-coloured butterflies—all the beauties of a tropical garden. On one side of him was the open window of a sitting-room that, shaded, as it was, by the verandah, looked dark and cool compared with the glare of the scorching sun outside.
From this room came the sounds of a grand piano and of the sweet voice of a girl singing a simple and pathetic ballad.
He was a handsome young fellow of, perhaps, twenty-two years of age, rather tall, and well-made, with light wavy hair, and blue-grey eyes that had in them an introspective, somewhat dreamy expression, but that nevertheless could light up on occasion with an animated glance.
The house stood on a terrace that commanded a view of the sea, and, in the distance, white sails could be seen making their way across the blue water in the light breeze and the dazzling sunlight. Nearer at hand were waving palms, glowing flowers, humming insects and gaudily-coloured butterflies—all the beauties of a tropical garden. On one side of him was the open window of a sitting-room that, shaded, as it was, by the verandah, looked dark and cool compared with the glare of the scorching sun outside.
From this room came the sounds of a grand piano and of the sweet voice of a girl singing a simple and pathetic ballad.
Ukadiriaji na maoni
5.0
Maoni 2
Kuhusu mwandishi
Frank Aubrey is the author of The Devil-Tree of El Dorado
Kadiria kitabu pepe hiki
Tupe maoni yako.
Kusoma maelezo
Simu mahiri na kompyuta vibao
Sakinisha programu ya Vitabu vya Google Play kwa ajili ya Android na iPad au iPhone. Itasawazishwa kiotomatiki kwenye akaunti yako na kukuruhusu usome vitabu mtandaoni au nje ya mtandao popote ulipo.
Kompyuta za kupakata na kompyuta
Unaweza kusikiliza vitabu vilivyonunuliwa kwenye Google Play wakati unatumia kivinjari cha kompyuta yako.
Visomaji pepe na vifaa vingine
Ili usome kwenye vifaa vya wino pepe kama vile visomaji vya vitabu pepe vya Kobo, utahitaji kupakua faili kisha ulihamishie kwenye kifaa chako. Fuatilia maagizo ya kina ya Kituo cha Usaidizi ili uhamishe faili kwenye visomaji vya vitabu pepe vinavyotumika.
