[The Shuttle by Frances Hodgson Burnett]@TWC D-Link bookThe Shuttle CHAPTER V 2/53
None of these things were new to those who pondered over them, kinsmen had dwelt on memories of them in their fireside talk, and their children had seen them in fancy and in dreams.
Old grievances having had time to fade away and take on less poignant colour, the stirring of the blood stirred also imaginations, and wakened something akin to homesickness, though no man called the feeling by its name.
And this, perhaps, was the strongest cord the Shuttle wove and was the true meaning of its power.
Being drawn by it, Americans in increasing numbers turned their faces towards the older land.
Gradually it was discovered that it was the simplest affair in the world to drive down to the wharves and take a steamer which landed one, after a more or less interesting voyage, in Liverpool, or at some other convenient port. From there one went to London, or Paris, or Rome; in fact, whithersoever one's fancy guided, but first or last it always led the traveller to the treading of green, velvet English turf.
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