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Columbia Theatre, direction Frank Metzerott, Oliver Metzerott, Fred. G. Berger, manager. Messrs. Klaw & Erlanger present "The Trail of the Lonesome Pine," a play in four acts by Eugene Walter, founded on the widely-known novel of the same name by John Fox, Jr. with Charlotte Walker. Staged under the direction of Mr. Herbert Gresham, overture and incidental music by Mr. William Warville Nelson, scenery painted by Walter Burridge of the Lee Lash Studios, New York.
John Fox Jr. published this great romantic novel of the Cumberland Mountains of Kentucky and Virginia in 1908, and the book quickly became one of America's favorites. It has all the elements of a good romance -- a superior but natural heroine, a hero who is an agent of progress and enlightenment, a group of supposedly benighted mountaineers to be drawn into the flow of mainstream American culture, a generous dose of social and class struggle, and a setting among the misty coves and cliffs of the blue Cumberlands.
The Trail of the Lonesome Pine is a novel about life in the Appalachian Mountains in the late 19th century. The story follows the romance between a young woman named June and a mining engineer named Jack, as they navigate the challenges of the rugged landscape and the community. This book is an important piece of American literature, as it reflects the culture and landscape of the Appalachian region and the changing social and economic conditions of the time. This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work is in the "public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.
She sat at the base of the big tree—her little sunbonnet pushed back, her arms locked about her knees, her bare feet gathered under her crimson gown and her deep eyes fixed on the smoke in the valley below. Her breath was still coming fast between her parted lips. There were tiny drops along the roots of her shining hair, for the climb had been steep, and now the shadow of disappointment darkened her eyes. The mountains ran in limitless blue waves towards the mounting sun—but at birth her eyes had opened on them as on the white mists trailing up the steeps below her. Beyond them was a gap in the next mountain chain and down in the little valley, just visible through it, were trailing blue mists as well, and she knew that they were smoke. Where was the great glare of yellow light that the "circuit rider" had told about—and the leaping tongues of fire? Where was the shrieking monster that ran without horses like the wind and tossed back rolling black plumes all streaked with fire? For many days now she had heard stories of the "furriners" who had come into those hills and were doing strange things down there, and so at last she had climbed up through the dewy morning from the cove on the other side to see the wonders for herself.