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Charlotte Mary Yonge
![Charlotte Mary Yonge](https://digilibraries-com.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/avatars/4e3b1903-e571-4271-a1da-67878a981452.jpg)
Charlotte Mary Yonge (1823-1901) was an English novelist renowned for her extensive literary output, particularly her works for children and young adults. Influenced by the Oxford Movement, her writing often reflected strong Anglican religious themes and Victorian moral values. Among her most famous works is "The Heir of Redclyffe" (1853), which achieved great popularity in the 19th century.
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CHAPTER IHONOURS ‘Oh, there’s that stick. What can he want?’ sighed one of a pair of dignified elderly ladies, in black silk, to the other, as in a quiet country-town street they saw themselves about to be accosted by a man of about forty, with the air of a managing clerk, who came up breathlessly, with a flush on his usually pale cheeks. ‘Miss Lang; I beg pardon! May I be allowed a few...
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CHAPTER I—THE STRANGE LAD ‘Goodness! If ever I did see such a pig!’ said Ellen King, as she mounted the stairs. ‘I wouldn’t touch him with a pair of tongs!’ ‘Who?’ said a voice from the bedroom. ‘Why, that tramper who has just been in to buy a loaf! He is a perfect pig, I declare! I only wonder you did not find of him up here! The police ought to hinder such folk from coming...
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As the most striking lines of poetry are the most hackneyed, because they have grown to be the common inheritance of all the world, so many of the most noble deeds that earth can show have become the best known, and enjoyed their full meed of fame. Therefore it may be feared that many of the events here detailed, or alluded to, may seem trite to those in search of novelty; but it is not for such that...
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CHAPTER I THE BIRTHDAY GIFT 'O I've got a plum-cake, and a feast let us make, Come, school-fellows, come at my call; I assure you 'tis nice, and we'll all have a slice, Here's more than enough for us all.' JANE TAYLOR. 'It is come! Felix, it is come!' So cried, shouted, shrieked a chorus, as a street...
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CHAPTER IThe Experiences Of Goody Madge “Dear Madam, think me not to blame;Invisible the fairy came.Your precious babe is hence conveyed,And in its place a changeling laid.Where are the father’s mouth and nose,The mother’s eyes as black as sloes?See here, a shocking awkward creature,That speaks a fool in every feature.” GAY. “He is an ugly ill-favoured boy—just like Riquet ÐÑ la...
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CHAPTER I. Farewell rewards and fairies,Good housewives now may say,For now foul sluts in dairiesMay fare as well as they. BP. CORBET. An ancient leafless stump of a horse-chesnut stood in the middle of a dusty field, bordered on the south side by a row of houses of some pretension. Against this stump, a pretty delicate fair girl of seventeen, whose short lilac sleeves revealed...
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CHAPTER I. One single flash of glad surpriseJust glanced from Isabel's dark eyes,Then vanished in the blush of shameThat as its penance instant came—'O thought unworthy of my race!' The Lord of the Isles. As little recked Fitzjocelyn of the murmurs which he had provoked, as he guessed the true secret of his victory. In his eyes, it was the triumph of...
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CHAP. I.—OLYMPUS. am going to tell you the history of the most wonderful people who ever lived. But I have to begin with a good deal that is not true; for the people who descended from Japhet’s son Javan, and lived in the beautiful islands and peninsulas called Greece, were not trained in the knowledge of God like the Israelites, but had to guess for themselves. They made strange stories,...
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CHAPTER I. One summer afternoon, Helen Woodbourne returned from her daily walk with her sisters, and immediately repaired to the school-room, in order to put the finishing touches to a drawing, with which she had been engaged during the greater part of the morning. She had not been long established there, before her sister Katherine came in, and, taking her favourite station, leaning against the window...
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CHAPTER I Quand on veut dessecher un marais, on ne fait pas voter les grenouilles.—Mme. EMILE. DE GIRADIN 'Richard? That's right! Here's a tea-cup waiting for you,' as the almost thirty-year-old Incumbent of Cocksmoor, still looking like a young deacon, entered the room with his quiet step, and silent greeting to its four inmates. 'Thank you, Ethel. Is papa gone out?'...
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