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The Marshmallows Trilogy #2, part 2
The Seaboard Parish Volume 2
In the evening we met in Connie's room, as usual, to have our talk. And this is what came out of it.The window was open. The sun was in the west. We sat a little aside out of the course of his radiance, and let him look full into the room. Only Wynnie sat back in a dark corner, as if she would get out of his way. Below him the sea lay bluer than you could believe even when you saw it-blue with a delicate yet deep silky blue, the exquisiteness of which was thrown up by the brilliant white lines of its lapping on the high coast, to the north-ward. We had just sat down, when Dora broke out with-
176 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1871
3 people are currently reading
25 people want to read
About the author
George MacDonald
1,597 books2,468 followersGeorge MacDonald was a Scottish author, poet and Christian Congregational minister. He became a pioneering figure in the field of modern fantasy literature and the mentor of fellow-writer Lewis Carroll. In addition to his fairy tales, MacDonald wrote several works of Christian theology, including several collections of sermons.
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
December 13, 2016
Reading MacDonald is worthwhile because of the interaction between people, characterization, creativity in explaining truth and the goodness of God which shines through. There is always a feeling of goodness and hope when I read MacDonald.
July 22, 2020
MacDonald writes an excellent and amazing sermon about the Resurrection from the dead in this book; it is towards the end of the book, I think in the last chapter which is the climax of this volume. It was very encouraging and uplifting to read. His thoughts, descriptions, and depictions of the resurrected body after death he compares to a butterfly, etc.
“Think, then, of all the deaths you know; the death of the night, when the sun is gone, when friend says not a word to friend, but both lie drowned and parted in the sea of sleep; the death of the year, when winter lies heavy on the graves of the children of summer, when the leafless trees moan in the blasts from the ocean, when the beasts even look dull and oppressed, when the children go about shivering with cold, when the poor and improvident are miserable with suffering or think of such a death of disease as befalls us at times, when the man who says, 'Would God it were morning!' changes but his word, and not his tune, when the morning comes, crying, 'Would God it were evening!' when what life is left is known to us only by suffering, and hope is amongst the things that were once and are no more—think of all these, think of them all together, and you will have but the dimmest, faintest picture of the death from which the resurrection of which I have now to speak, is the rising. I shrink from
the attempt, knowing how weak words are to set forth the death, set forth the resurrection. Were I to sit down to yonder organ, and crash out the most horrible dissonances that ever took shape in sound, I should give you but a weak figure of this death; were I capable of drawing from many a row of pipes an exhalation of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet, such as Milton himself could have invaded our ears withal, I could give you but a faint figure of this resurrection.”
Excerpt From
The Complete Works of George MacDonald (Illustrated Edition)
George MacDonald
This material may be protected by copyright.
“Think, then, of all the deaths you know; the death of the night, when the sun is gone, when friend says not a word to friend, but both lie drowned and parted in the sea of sleep; the death of the year, when winter lies heavy on the graves of the children of summer, when the leafless trees moan in the blasts from the ocean, when the beasts even look dull and oppressed, when the children go about shivering with cold, when the poor and improvident are miserable with suffering or think of such a death of disease as befalls us at times, when the man who says, 'Would God it were morning!' changes but his word, and not his tune, when the morning comes, crying, 'Would God it were evening!' when what life is left is known to us only by suffering, and hope is amongst the things that were once and are no more—think of all these, think of them all together, and you will have but the dimmest, faintest picture of the death from which the resurrection of which I have now to speak, is the rising. I shrink from
the attempt, knowing how weak words are to set forth the death, set forth the resurrection. Were I to sit down to yonder organ, and crash out the most horrible dissonances that ever took shape in sound, I should give you but a weak figure of this death; were I capable of drawing from many a row of pipes an exhalation of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet, such as Milton himself could have invaded our ears withal, I could give you but a faint figure of this resurrection.”
Excerpt From
The Complete Works of George MacDonald (Illustrated Edition)
George MacDonald
This material may be protected by copyright.
March 10, 2020
(I read the Dan Hamilton edited version) I didn’t enjoy this as much as most MacDonald novels.
February 28, 2023
I love the sweet simplicity of this story so far!
October 9, 2024
For all my fellow painters, this book theorized the “why” behind painting like no other GM book. I’m still thinking on the things I highlighted and wanting to be the painter GM believed God was honored with. There was worship of God in painting and pictures. I thoroughly enjoyed this one the most in the series of three and will come back to reread these again once I get through the rest of GM’s works.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews