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by Various
CHAPTER I.—THE MOOR. Crimson and gold. As far as one could see across the moor it was one broad expanse of purply heather, kindled into a glowing crimson by the blaze of ruddy sunshine, and lighted here and there by bright patches of the thorny golden rod. Dame Nature had evidently painted out of her summer paint-box, and had not spared her best and brightest colours. Crimson-lake, children; you know what a lovely colour it is, and how... more...

by Various
THE HOSTLER'S STORY. By J. T. Trowbridge. What amused us most at the Lake House last summer was the performance of a bear in the back yard. He was fastened to a pole by a chain, which gave him a range of a dozen or fifteen feet. It was not very safe for visitors to come within that circle, unless they were prepared for rough handling. He had a way of suddenly catching you to his bosom, and picking your pockets of peanuts and candy,–if... more...

by Various
"Look you, Duncan," Elsie exclaimed, when they had walked on some way in silence, "I've made up my mind to go, and what's the use o' waitin'? The sooner the better, for it may turn cold any day now. We shouldn't be long if it was fine, but if 'twas wet we might have to wait up in places. I must sit down an' see if I can find out the way to go from the map." "We shan't be to school in time," Duncan protested. "Well, an' I dunno that I care,"... more...

by Various
CHAPTER VIII.—ESCAPE. When Elsie awoke in the morning, after at last falling into a dull, heavy sleep, she had not an opportunity of seeing what sort of weather it was. There was no light in their rude sleeping-place, except the dim one that came through the aperture from the other room. She listened, and hearing sounds of life below, she hastily rose, and creeping down the ladder, went in search of her frock. Mrs. Ferguson was already... more...

by Various
A LITTLE TOO CLEVER. By the Author of "Pen's Perplexities" "Margaret's Enemy," "Maid Marjory" &c. CHAPTER XII.—AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND. For the first time since she had left home, Elsie felt thoroughly frightened and miserable. Even when she had stayed in the crofter's cottage she had not felt worse. For this little attic, right at the top of a tall house full of people, seemed even more dreadful than the bare wretched loft in Sandy... more...


by Various
CHAPTER XVI.—IN LONDON. "What is the meaning of this—this gross outrage?" stammered Grandpapa Donaldson, growing very red and angry. "By what right do you molest peaceful travellers? Go on, my dear," he added, addressing Mrs. Donaldson. "You and Effie go on; I will join you directly." "We will wait for you, father," Mrs. Donaldson said, in a sweet, pensive voice. "What do these gentlemen want?" "You cannot leave the carriage,... more...

by Various
His real name is Wallace, but his mates always called him "Wally," and although he is now a big broad-shouldered young mariner, he is still pointed out as the "wreck-boy." One summer not long ago Wally sailed with me for a week out upon the blue waters across the bar after blue-fish, or among the winding tide-water creeks for sheep's-head, and it was then, by means of many questions, that I heard the following story. Wally's father was a... more...

by Various
A CHILDREN'S PARADISE. In one corner of the Bois de Boulogne is a pretty zoological garden known as the Jardin d'Acclimatation. The Bois de Boulogne is the pleasure-ground of Paris, and is one of the most beautiful parks in the world. It comprises about twenty-five hundred acres of majestic forests and open grassy meadows, through which flow picturesque streams, tumbling over rocky cliffs in glistening cascades, or spreading out into broad... more...

by Various
Kitty was eight years old, and Ted was seven. They had always lived on a large farm, and knew all about birds and squirrels, and the different kinds of trees, and how to make bonfires and little stone ovens; and they could shoot with bows and arrows, and swim, and climb trees, and split kindlings, and take care of chickens and ducks and turkeys, and do a great many jolly and useful things which city children hardly get even a chance to do. Well,... more...

by Various
THE NEW PUPIL. The boys who attended Mr. Morton's Select School in the village of Laketon did not profess to know more than boys of the same age and advantages elsewhere; but of one thing they were absolutely certain, and that was that no teacher ever rang his bell to assemble the school or call the boys in from recess until just that particular instant when the fun in the school-yard was at its highest, and the boys least wanted to come in. A... more...