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Diantha W. Horne
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Diantha W. Horne
LEGACY AND LEGATEE Marsden was one of the few villages of our populous country yet left remote from any line of railway. The chief events of its quiet days were the morning and evening arrivals and departures of the mail-coach, whose driver still retained the almost obsolete custom of blowing a horn to signal his approach. All Marsden favored the horn, it was so convenient and so—so antique! which...
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Diantha W. Horne
MILDRED'S INHERITANCE As the good ship Majestic went steaming away from the Irish coast, one sunny September morning, three pretty college girls leaned over the railing of the upper deck, watching the steerage passengers below. With faces turned to the shore which they might never see again, the lusty-throated emigrants were sending their song of "Farewell to Erin" floating mournfully back...
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Diantha W. Horne
THE OUPHE OF THE WOOD "An Ouphe!" perhaps you exclaim, "and pray what might that be?" An Ouphe, fair questioner,—though you may never have heard of him,—was a creature well known (by hearsay, at least) to your great-great-grandmother. It was currently reported that every forest had one within its precincts, who ruled over the woodmen, and exacted tribute from them in the shape of...
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