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E. P. Roe- Driven Back to Eden.
An Excerpt from the book-
"Where are the children?"
"They can't be far away," replied my wife, looking up from her
preparations for supper. "Bobsey was here a moment ago. As soon as
my back's turned he's out and away. I haven't seen Merton since he
brought his books from school, and I suppose Winnie is upstairs with
the Daggetts."
"I wish, my dear, you could keep the children at home more," I said,
a little petulantly.
"I wish you would go and find them for me now, and to-morrow take my
place--for just one day."
"Well, well," I said, with a laugh that had no mirth in it; "only
one of your wishes stands much chance of being carried out. I'll
find the children now if I can without the aid of the police.
Mousie, do you feel stronger to-night?"
These words were spoken to a pale girl of fourteen, who appeared to
be scarcely more than twelve, so diminutive was her frame.
"Yes, papa," she replied, a faint smile flitting like a ray of light
across her features. She always said she was better, but never got
well. Her quiet ways and tones had led to the household name of
"Mousie."
As I was descending the narrow stairway I was almost overthrown by a
torrent of children pouring down from the flats above. In the dim
light of a gas-burner I saw that Bobsey was one of the reckless
atoms. He had not heard my voice in the uproar, and before I could
reach him, he with the others had burst out at the street door and
gone tearing toward the nearest corner. It seemed that he had
slipped away in order to take part in a race, and I found him
"squaring off" at a bigger boy who had tripped him up. Without a
word I carried him home, followed by the jeers and laughter of the
racers, the girls making their presence known in the early December
twilight by the shrillness of their voices and by manners no gentler
than those of the boys.
"Where are the children?"
"They can't be far away," replied my wife, looking up from her
preparations for supper. "Bobsey was here a moment ago. As soon as
my back's turned he's out and away. I haven't seen Merton since he
brought his books from school, and I suppose Winnie is upstairs with
the Daggetts."
"I wish, my dear, you could keep the children at home more," I said,
a little petulantly.
"I wish you would go and find them for me now, and to-morrow take my
place--for just one day."
"Well, well," I said, with a laugh that had no mirth in it; "only
one of your wishes stands much chance of being carried out. I'll
find the children now if I can without the aid of the police.
Mousie, do you feel stronger to-night?"
These words were spoken to a pale girl of fourteen, who appeared to
be scarcely more than twelve, so diminutive was her frame.
"Yes, papa," she replied, a faint smile flitting like a ray of light
across her features. She always said she was better, but never got
well. Her quiet ways and tones had led to the household name of
"Mousie."
As I was descending the narrow stairway I was almost overthrown by a
torrent of children pouring down from the flats above. In the dim
light of a gas-burner I saw that Bobsey was one of the reckless
atoms. He had not heard my voice in the uproar, and before I could
reach him, he with the others had burst out at the street door and
gone tearing toward the nearest corner. It seemed that he had
slipped away in order to take part in a race, and I found him
"squaring off" at a bigger boy who had tripped him up. Without a
word I carried him home, followed by the jeers and laughter of the
racers, the girls making their presence known in the early December
twilight by the shrillness of their voices and by manners no gentler
than those of the boys.
- GenresClassics
251 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1885
9 people are currently reading
21 people want to read
About the author
Edward Payson Roe
203 books14 followersReverend Edward Payson Roe (1838-1888) was an American novelist born in Moodna, Orange County, New York. He studied at Williams College and at Auburn Theological Seminary. In 1862 he became chaplain of the Second New York Cavalry, U.S. V., and in 1864 chaplain of Hampton Hospital, in Virginia. In 1866-74 he was pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Highland Falls, New York. In 1874 he moved to Cornwall-on-the-Hudson, where he devoted himself to the writing of fiction and to horticulture. During the American Civil War he wrote weekly letters to the New York Evangelist, and subsequently lectured on the war and wrote for periodicals. Amongst his works are Barriers Burned Away (1872), What Can She Do? (1873), Opening a Chestnut Burr (1874), Near to Nature's Heart (1876), A Face Illumined (1878), Success with Small Fruits (1880), A Day of Fate (1880), Without a Home (1881), An Unexpected Result (1883), His Sombre Rivals (1884), A Young Girl's Wooing (1884), An Original Belle (1885), He Fell in Love with His Wife (1886), Driven Back to Eden (1886) and The Earth Trembled (1887).
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
August 28, 2016
If you love the land and secretly dream of ditching city life and moving your family to the country you just might like this book. Or if you love country life and enjoy stories of a "father knows best" kind of dad instructing his family how to make the most of their new farmland you might like this book too. It's not a masterpiece, but I enjoyed it in part because of the agriculture theme and in part because it's nice to read about a family who is happy working together.
December 6, 2020
Father decides to ditch his office job and become a farmer. I wish he'd bought the metaphorical farm instead of a real one.
E. P. Roe was of those clergyman authors who sold a lot of books in middle America back in the day. He obviously meant well but this is one of the most boring books I have ever read. I'm all for extolling the virtues of hard work but it shouldn't be such hard work to read about it.
The fledgling farmer does extremely well considering he simultaneously grows just about every type f fruit and vegetable known to man. Problems involve weeds and a lightening strike which destroys the barn. A fiery neighbour and his unruly brood are subdued and rehabilitated just like shelling peas.
The children willingly chip in on the farm. Or maybe the Christian father's tendancy to apply the birch or tie them to a chair when they so much as raise their voices had something to do with their compliance. This conversation with his young son made me laugh though:
"O papa," he faltered, and his eyes were moist, "did you say a gun?"
"Yes, a breech-loading shot-gun on one condition—that you'll not smoke till after you are twenty-one. A growing boy can't smoke in safety."
Duller than paradise.
E. P. Roe was of those clergyman authors who sold a lot of books in middle America back in the day. He obviously meant well but this is one of the most boring books I have ever read. I'm all for extolling the virtues of hard work but it shouldn't be such hard work to read about it.
The fledgling farmer does extremely well considering he simultaneously grows just about every type f fruit and vegetable known to man. Problems involve weeds and a lightening strike which destroys the barn. A fiery neighbour and his unruly brood are subdued and rehabilitated just like shelling peas.
The children willingly chip in on the farm. Or maybe the Christian father's tendancy to apply the birch or tie them to a chair when they so much as raise their voices had something to do with their compliance. This conversation with his young son made me laugh though:
"O papa," he faltered, and his eyes were moist, "did you say a gun?"
"Yes, a breech-loading shot-gun on one condition—that you'll not smoke till after you are twenty-one. A growing boy can't smoke in safety."
Duller than paradise.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews