Showing: 1-10 results of 1892

I That old bell, presage of a train, had just sounded through Oxford station; and the undergraduates who were waiting there, gay figures in tweed or flannel, moved to the margin of the platform and gazed idly up the line. Young and careless, in the glow of the afternoon sunshine, they struck a sharp note of incongruity with the worn boards they stood on, with the fading signals and grey eternal walls of that antique station, which, familiar to... more...

CHAPTER I In Which Zip Is Introduced to the Reader   Zip belongs to Dr. Elsworth, who lives in the big, white house with the green blinds on the edge of the village of Maplewood. And at the present minute he is asleep on the front porch on a soft cushion in an old-fashioned rocking-chair that is swaying gently to and fro, dreaming of the days when he was a puppy chasing the white spot on the end of his tail, thinking it was something... more...

INTRODUCTION. Dear Friend, I enclose you the manuscript of which you have so long desired possession. You have permission to do what you like with it, on one condition, which is, that you alter all the names, and expunge anything like personality therein; for, as you are aware (with two exceptions) each character mentioned in the story is now alive, and so few years have elapsed since the events recorded took place that it would not be at all... more...

"Who's that little gal goin' by?" said old Mrs. Emmons. "That—why, that's young Lucretia, mother," replied her daughter Ann, peering out of the window over her mother's shoulder. There was a fringe of flowering geraniums in the window; the two women had to stretch their heads over them. "Poor little soul!" old Mrs. Emmons remarked further. "I pity that child." "I don't see much to pity her for," Ann returned, in a voice high-pitched and... more...

I HOW DON QUIXOTE WAS KNIGHTED Some three or four hundred years ago, there lived in sunny Spain an old gentleman named Quixada, who owned a house and a small property near a village in La Mancha. With him lived his niece, a housekeeper, and a man who looked after Quixada's farm and his one old white horse, which, though its master imagined it to be an animal of great strength and beauty, was really as lean as Quixada himself and as broken down... more...


CHAPTER I. THE ENCOUNTER ON THE BRIDGE. "Get out of the way, boy, or I'll ride over you!" "Wait a second, please, until I haul in this fish. He's such a beauty I don't wish to lose him." "Do you suppose I'm going to bother with your fish? Get out of the way, I say!" And the man, who sat astride of a coal-black horse, shook his hand threateningly. He was dressed in the uniform of a surgeon in the Confederate Army, and his face was dark and... more...

THE START FOR THE MIDNIGHT SUN “ Well, fellows,” said Jesse Wilcox, the youngest of the three boys who stood now at the ragged railway station of Athabasca Landing, where they had just disembarked, “here we are once more. For my part, I’m ready to start right now.” He spoke somewhat pompously for a youth no more than fifteen years of age. John Hardy and Rob McIntyre, his two companions, somewhat older than... more...

CHAPTER I SYLVIA "Your name is in a song, isn't it?" said Grace Waite, as she and her new playmate, Sylvia Fulton, walked down the pleasant street on their way to school. "Is it? Can you sing the song?" questioned Sylvia eagerly, her blue eyes shining at what promised to be such a delightful discovery. Grace nodded smilingly. She was a year older than Sylvia, nearly eleven years old, and felt that it was quite proper that she should be able... more...

CHAPTER I. HOW LODBROK THE DANE CAME TO REEDHAM. Elfric, my father, and I stood on our little watch tower at Reedham, and looked out over the wide sea mouth of Yare and Waveney, to the old gray walls of the Roman Burgh on the further shore, and the white gulls cried round us, and the water sparkled in the fresh sea breeze from the north and east, and the bright May-time sun shone warmly on us, and our hearts went out to the sea and its freedom,... more...

The Outpost. On the northern shores of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence there stood, not very long ago, a group of wooden houses, which were simple in construction and lowly in aspect. The region around them was a vast uncultivated, uninhabited solitude. The road that led to them was a rude one. It wound round a rugged cliff, under the shelter of which the houses nestled as if for protection from the cold winds and the snowdrifts that took special... more...