noon
We were sitting on a bank of the Charles River , fishing . The soft melancholy red of evening was fading off in streaks on the glassy water , and the houses of Oldtown were beginning to loom through the gloom , solemn and ghostly . There are times and tones and moods of nature that make all the vulgar , daily real seem shadowy , vague , and supernatural , as if the outlines of this hard material present were fading into the invisible and unknown . So Oldtown , with its elm-trees , its great square white houses , its meeting-house and tavern and blacksmith 's shop and milly which at high noon seem as real and as commonplace as possible , at this hour of the evening were dreamy and solemn . They rose up blurred , indistinct , dark ; here and there winking candles sent long lines of light through the shadows , and little drops of unforeseen rain rippled the sheeny darkness of the water . `` Wal , you see , boys , in them things it 's jest as well to mind your granny . There 's a consid ' able sight o ' gumption in grandmas .