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Showing: 21-30 results of 94

by Unknown
January.—Now the weather is very cold. There are no leaves upon the trees. The ground is frozen quite hard. Perhaps it is covered with snow. Every thing looks very cold and comfortless. A little boy or girl, when out of humor, reminds me of this month. Bring plenty of wood and make a good fire, that we may warm ourselves.   February is a cold month, but the days are getting longer. Now the crocuses and snow-drops begin to... more...

by Unknown
PRESENT: Cranch, chief justice, Thruston and Morsell, justices. F. S. Key, district attorney, and J. M. Carlisle, for the prosecution. R. S. Coxe and J. H. Bradley, for the defence. John H. King, Nicholas Callan, James Kennedy, Walter Clarke, George Crandall, William Waters, Thomas Hyde, Thomas Fenwick, Samuel Lowe, George Simmes, Wesley Stevenson, and Jacob Gideon, jr., were empannelled and sworn as jurors to... more...

by Unknown
THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF BAMPFYLDE MOORE CAREW. Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew was descended from the ancient family of the Carews, son of the Reverend Mr. Theodore Carew, of the parish of Brickley, near Tiverton, in the county of Devon; of which parish he was many years a rector, very much esteemed while living, and at his death universally lamented.  Mr. Carew was born in the month of July 1693; and never was there known a more splendid... more...

by Unknown
In the kingdom of Bonbobbin, which, by the Chinese annals, appears to have flourished twenty thousand years ago, there reigned a prince, endowed with every accomplishment which generally distinguishes the sons of kings. His beauty was brighter than the sun. The sun, to which he was nearly related, would sometimes stop his course, in order to look down and admire him. His mind was not less perfect than his body; he knew all things without having... more...

by Unknown
THE STORY OF BURNT NJAL 1. OF FIDDLE MORD There was a man named Mord whose surname was Fiddle; he was the son of Sigvat the Red, and he dwelt at the "Vale" in the Rangrivervales. He was a mighty chief, and a great taker up of suits, and so great a lawyer that no judgments were thought lawful unless he had a hand in them. He had an only daughter, named Unna. She was a fair, courteous, and gifted woman, and that was thought the best match in all... more...


by Unknown
THE SKATING PARTY. One cold winter’s morning, Willie’s mother promised to take him to see the skaters on the river. Willie was in great glee, and when they arrived at the river, he wanted to go on the ice but his mother was afraid to venture. The river was frozen very hard, and the merry skaters seemed almost to fly, they went so fast over the glib ice. Now and then one of them would fall down, causing a burst of laughter from the... more...

by Unknown
Socrates: Well, here we are at the appointed time, Meno. Meno: Yes, and it looks like a fine day for it, too. Socrates: And I see our serving boy is also here. Boy: Yes, I am, and ready to do your bidding. Socrates: Wonderful. Now, Meno, I want you to be on your guard, as you were the other day, to insure that I teach nothing to the boy, but rather pull out of his mind the premises which are already there. Meno: I shall do my best, Socrates.... more...

by Unknown
CHAPTER I. RODNEY UNHAPPY IN A GOOD HOME.   T was a lovely Sabbath morning in May, 1828, when two lads, the elder of whom was about sixteen years old, and the younger about fourteen, were wandering along the banks of a beautiful brook, called the Buttermilk Creek, in the immediate vicinity of the city of Albany, N. Y. Though there is no poetry in the name of this little stream, there is sweet music made by its rippling waters, as they... more...

by Unknown
Think of it! "One Dollar a Pound." The Editor of this book was brought face to face with the true possibilities in Frog raising by his love for this delicate meat and his inability to get it. As I had visited all the principal markets in New York City, a market where it is known the world over that if there is anything in the eatable line to be found it can be found there. This was not so of frog meat. After making several attempts and failing,... more...

by Unknown
LIFE OF JOSEPH ADDISON. Joseph Addison, the Spectator, the true founder of our periodical literature, the finest, if not the greatest writer in the English language, was born at Milston, Wiltshire, on the 1st of May 1672. A fanciful mind might trace a correspondence between the particular months when celebrated men have been born and the peculiar complexion of their genius. Milton, the austere and awful, was born in the silent and gloomy month... more...