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Martha Finley
Martha Finley was an American author best known for her "Elsie Dinsmore" series, which began in 1867 and extended to 28 volumes by 1905. Her works, primarily aimed at young girls, emphasized Christian virtues and moral development, reflecting her deep religious convictions. Despite mixed critical reception, Finley's books enjoyed significant popularity in the 19th century and influenced generations of readers.
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Martha Finley
CHAPTER I. Captain Raymond went back to the hotel feeling somewhat lonely and heartsore over the parting from his eldest hope, but as he entered the private parlor where his young wife and most of the party were, his look and manner had all their accustomed cheeriness. He made a pleasant remark to Violet, fondled the little ones, and talked for a few minutes in his usual agreeable way with Mr. and Mrs....
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Martha Finley
CHAPTER I. "O married love! each heart shall own; Where two congenial souls unite,Thy golden chains inlaid with down, Thy lamp with heaven's own splendor bright."LANGHORNE. "There, there, little woman! light of my eyes, and core of my heart! if you don't stop this pretty soon, I very much fear I shall be compelled to join you," Edward Travilla said, between a laugh and a...
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Martha Finley
"Oh! there is one affection which no stainOf earth can ever darken;—when two find,The softer and the manlier, that a chainOf kindred taste has fastened mind to mind."—PERCIVAL'S POEMS. In one of the cool green alleys at the Oaks, Rose and Adelaide Dinsmore were pacing slowly to and fro, each with an arm about the other's waist, in girlish fashion, while they conversed together in...
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Martha Finley
CHAPTER I. It was a beautiful evening at Viamede: the sun nearing its setting, shadows sleeping here and there upon the velvety flower-bespangled lawn, and filling the air with their delicious perfume, the waters of the bayou beyond reflecting the roseate hues of the sunset clouds, and the song of some negro oarsmen, in a passing boat, coming to the ear in pleasantly mellowed tones. Tea was over, and...
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Martha Finley
Hugh Lilburn was very urgent with his betrothed for a speedy marriage, pleading that as her brother had robbed him and his father of their expected housekeeper—his cousin Marian—he could not long do without the wife who was to supply her place. Her sisters, Isadore and Virginia, who had come up from the far South to be present at the ceremony, joined with him in his plea for haste. They wanted to...
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Martha Finley
CHAPTER I. "How happy they,Who from the toil and tumult of their livesSteal to look down where naught but ocean strives." —Byron. "Well, captain, for how long have you Uncle Sam's permission to stay on shore this time?" asked Mr. Dinsmore, as the family at Ion sat about the breakfast-table on the morning after Captain Raymond's...
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Martha Finley
CHAPTER I. "Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave,Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave." LONGFELLOW. It was a lovely summer morning, glorious with sunlight, sweet with the fragrance of flowers and the songs of birds. The view from the bay-window of the library of Crag Cottage, the residence of Mr. George Leland, architect...
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Martha Finley
"For wild, or calm, or far or near,I love thee still, thou glorious sea."—Mrs. Hemans. "I bless thee for kind looks and wordsShower'd on my path like dew,For all the love in those deep eyes,A gladness ever new."—Mrs. Hemans. It is late in the afternoon of a delicious October day; the woods back of the two cottages where the Dinsmores, Travillas and Raymonds have spent the last...
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Martha Finley
CHAPTER I. Crag Cottage was almost overflowingly full the first night after the arrival of its young mistress and her friends, but with a little contrivance all were comfortably accommodated. Most of them, weary with their journey, slept rather late in the morning, but Captain Raymond and his eldest daughter were as usual out of doors—out in the grounds—early enough to enjoy the beautiful sight of...
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Martha Finley
CHAPTER I. The shades of evening were closing in upon a stormy March day; rain and sleet falling fast while a blustering northeast wind sent them sweeping across the desolate-looking fields and gardens, and over the wet road where a hack was lumbering along, drawn by two weary-looking steeds; its solitary passenger sighing and groaning with impatience over its slow progress and her own fatigue....
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