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Classics Books
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by:
Saxton Pope
THE STORY OF THE LAST YANA INDIAN The glory and romance of archery culminated in England before the discovery of America. There, no doubt, the bow was used to its greatest perfection, and it decided the fate of nations. The crossbow and the matchlock had supplanted the longbow when Columbus sailed for the New World. It was, therefore, a distinct surprise to the first explorers of America that the...
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LETTER I.THE DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION.FROM PIDGIE TO HIS COUSIN BENNIE.Marblehead, July 1st, 1846. Do you remember, my dear cousin, how scornfully we used to look at "little crooked Massachusetts," as we called it, on the map, while comparing the other States with good old Virginia? I don't believe that we ever even noticed such a town in it as Marblehead; and yet here I am, in that very...
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CHAPTER I "The Sea Queen" Pember Street, E., is never very cheerful in appearance, not even in mid-spring, when the dingy lilacs in the forecourts of those grimy houses bourgeon and blossom. The shrubs assimilate soon the general air of depression common to the neighbourhood. The smoke catches and turns them; they wilt or wither; and the bunches of flowers are sicklied over with the smuts and...
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CHAPTER I In the year 1850 or thereabouts religious and charitable society in England was seized with a desire to convert Irish Roman Catholics to the Protestant faith. It is clear to everyone with any experience of missionary societies that, the more remote the field of actual work, the easier it is to keep alive the interest of subscribers. The mission to Roman Catholics, therefore, commenced in that...
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by:
John Brownlie
I O destitute of all defence, We bow before Thee now; In mercy let Thy mercy come, For merciful art Thou. II Our trusting souls in quiet repose Would rest Thy love within;— O be not angry with us, Lord, Nor think upon our sin.[14]III But from Thy high abode look down, With tender love the while, And save us from our foes who would Our wayward hearts beguile. IV For, verily Thou art our God, And we...
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by:
Myron Eells
1. Jesus chako kopa Saghalie, (Repeat twice.) Jesus hias kloshe. Jesus wawa kopa tillikums, (Repeat twice.) Jesus hias kloshe. 2. Jesus wawa wake kliminiwhit, Jesus hias kloshe. Jesus wawa wake kapswalla. Jesus hias kloshe. 3. Kopa nika Jesus mimaloose, Jesus hias kloshe. Jesus klatawa kopa Saghalie, Jesus hias kloshe. 4. Alta Jesus mitlite kopa Saghalie, Jesus hias kloshe. Yaka Jesus tikegh nika...
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Richard made an early start that morning in search of employment, and duplicated the failure of the previous day. Nobody wanted him. If nobody wanted him in the village where he was born and bred, a village of counting-rooms and workshops, was any other place likely to need him? He had only one hope, if it could be called a hope; at any rate, he had treated it tenderly as such and kept it for the last....
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When I had determined (Right honorable) to dedicate this Booke, to the euerlyuing vertues of that matchlesse Knight Syr Phillip Sydney; me thought that I could not finde out a more Noble personage then your selfe, and more fit, to patronize, shield, and defende my dutie to the deade, then your Honour, whose greatnes is such, and vertues of that power, as who so commendeth them, deserueth not to be...
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by:
Edmund Gosse
A terrace high above the sea, which is seen far below, through vast masses of woodland. Steps lead down towards the water, from the centre of the scene. To the left, a large, low country-house, of unpretentious character, in the style of the late eighteenth century. Gardens belonging to the same period, and now somewhat neglected and overgrown, stretch on either side. The edge of the terrace is marked...
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by:
Mona Gould
I Run With the Fox Better to be proud and huntedThan to ride with the Pink Coats. Better than the smell of warm blood after a quick kill, Bitter and bright the scent of hidden fern. Though the heart fail in the panting sideAnd the eye be clouded with strainingafter the deep copseStill is there thrill in flight —Soft are oak leaves under the swift feet. Sweet are the distant notes of the hunter's...
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