Our website is made possible by displaying online advertisements to our visitors.
Please consider supporting us by disabling your ad blocker.

Download links will be available after you disable the ad blocker and reload the page.
Showing: 1-10 results of 57

IN A LONELY CABIN On the edge of a prairie, in western Iowa, thirty years ago, stood a cabin, covering quite a little ground, but only one story high. It was humble enough, but not more so than the early homes of some who have become great. The furniture was limited to articles of prime necessity. There was a stove, a table, three chairs, a row of shelves containing a few articles of crockery and tinware, and a bed in the far corner of the... more...

CHAPTER I. THE TELEGRAM. "A telegram for you, Andy!" said Arthur Bacon, as he entered the room ofAndy Grant in Penhurst Academy. "A telegram!" repeated Andy, in vague alarm, for the word suggested something urgent—probably bad news of some kind. He tore open the envelope and read the few words of the message: "Come home at once. Something has happened. "MOTHER." "What can it be?" thought Andy, perplexed. "At any rate, mother is well,... more...

INTRODUCES BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY. "How much yer made this mornin', Ben?" "Nary red," answered Ben, composedly. "Had yer breakfast?" "Only an apple. That's all I've eaten since yesterday. It's most time for the train to be in from Philadelphy. I'm layin' round for a job." The first speaker was a short, freckled-faced boy, whose box strapped to his back identified him at once as a street boot-black. His hair was red, his fingers defaced by... more...

CHAPTER I. THE MOUNTAIN-CABIN. "What's the news, Ben? You didn't happen to bring an evenin' paper, did you?" The speaker was a tall, loose-jointed man, dressed as a miner in a garb that appeared to have seen considerable service. His beard was long and untrimmed, and on his head he wore a Mexican sombrero. This was Jake Bradley, a rough but good-hearted miner, who was stretched carelessly upon the ground in front of a rude hut crowning a high... more...

CHAPTER I "Sit up to the table, children, breakfast's ready." The speaker was a woman of middle age, not good-looking in the ordinary acceptation of the term, but nevertheless she looked good. She was dressed with extreme plainness, in a cheap calico; but though cheap, the dress was neat. The children she addressed were six in number, varying in age from twelve to four. The oldest, Harry, the hero of the present story, was a broad-shouldered,... more...


CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG RIVALS. The main schoolroom in the Millville Academy was brilliantly lighted, and the various desks were occupied by boys and girls of different ages from ten to eighteen, all busily writing under the general direction of Professor George W. Granville, Instructor in Plain and Ornamental Penmanship. Professor Granville, as he styled himself, was a traveling teacher, and generally had two or three evening schools in progress... more...

CHAPTER I. A FAITHLESS GUARDIAN. "Well, good by, Rodney! I leave school tomorrow. I am going to learn a trade." "I am sorry to part with you, David. Couldn't you stay another term?" "No: my uncle says I must be earning my living, and I have a chance to learn the carpenter's trade." "Where are you going?" "To Duffield, some twenty miles away. I wish I were in your shoes. You have no money cares, and can go on quietly and complete your... more...

SILAS TRIPP. Probably the best known citizen of Wyncombe, a small town nestling among the Pennsylvania mountains, was Silas Tripp. He kept the village store, occasionally entertained travelers, having three spare rooms, was town treasurer, and conspicuous in other local offices. The store was in the center of the village, nearly opposite the principal church—there were two—and here it was that the townspeople gathered to hear and... more...

CHAPTER I. THE POST OFFICE AT WAYNEBORO. "If we could only keep the post office, mother, we should be all right," said Herbert Carr, as he and his mother sat together in the little sitting room of the plain cottage which the two had occupied ever since he was a boy of five. "Yes, Herbert, but I am afraid there won't be much chance of it." "Who would want to take it from you, mother?" "Men are selfish, Herbert, and there is no office, however... more...

DRIVEN FROM HOME. A boy of sixteen, with a small gripsack in his hand, trudged along the country road. He was of good height for his age, strongly built, and had a frank, attractive face. He was naturally of a cheerful temperament, but at present his face was grave, and not without a shade of anxiety. This can hardly be a matter of surprise when we consider that he was thrown upon his own resources, and that his available capital consisted of... more...