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Showing: 1-10 results of 192

CHAPTER I—THE TRAIL OF THE MEAT Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway.  The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, in the fading light.  A vast silence reigned over the land.  The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of... more...

WHY STRIPED CHIPMUNK IS PROUD OF HIS STRIPES The Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West Wind are great friends of Striped Chipmunk. They hurry to call on him the very first thing every morning after Old Mother West Wind has brought them down from the Purple Hills. They always beg him to stop and play with them, but often he refuses. But he does it in such a merry way and with such a twinkle in his eyes that the Merry Little Breezes never get... more...

I. Jimmy Crow belongs to Jack. Jack is a little . Jimmy is a big . Jack wears a white . Jimmy wears black . Jack says "Good Morning," and "Yes, sir," and "Thank you." Jimmy can say only "Caw, caw." Jack thinks Jimmy is a funnier pet than a or a . ne day, last summer, Jack was picking low in the pasture, when he saw a young hopping in the bushes. The little crow was lame in one . He had fallen from the . He was too young to fly far, so... more...

A STORY TOLD WHEN IT WAS SNOWING OUTSIDE, AND THE LITTLE LADY WAS WONDERING HOW IT WAS IN THE FAR DEEP WOODS ONCE upon a time, said the Story Teller, the Robin, and Turtle, and Squirrel, and Jack Rabbit had all gone home for the winter, and nobody was left in the Hollow Tree except the 'Coon and 'Possum and the Old Black Crow. Of course the others used to come back and visit them pretty often, and Mr. Dog, too, now that he had got to be good... more...

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Marian, and she had a doll called Big Mary. Marian loved Big Mary, and meant to be very good to her. But sometimes she was not. Santa Claus had brought Big Mary one snowy Christmas night, and he had brought also a great many pretty clothes for her to wear. There were three dresses, a warm red one for winter, and a white one, very thin, for summer, and still another, of beautiful blue silk with lace... more...


EXPLANATION OF THE NEW MAP This is a new map of the Deep Woods, showing a good many new things. The three spots on the Edge of the World, away down, show where the Hollow Tree people and Mr. Rabbit sat when they told their star stories. Mr. 'Coon leaned against the tree, so his spot does not show. The little bush is the one that Mr. 'Possum curled his tail around when he wanted to take a nap, to keep from falling over into the Deep Nowhere.... more...

The Derelict Link Ferris was a fighter. Not by nature, nor by choice, but to keep alive. His battleground covered an area of forty acres—broken, scrubby, uncertain side-hill acres, at that. In brief, a worked-out farm among the mountain slopes of the North Jersey hinterland; six miles from the nearest railroad. The farm was Ferris's, by right of sole heritage from his father, a Civil-War veteran, who had taken up the wilderness land in... more...

IN SQUIRREL TOWN   COME, little sleepy-eyes, it’s time to get up,” said Mrs. Squirrel, one morning. But little Bushy-Tail was having such a nice dream about a wonderful tree where all kinds of nuts grew side by side on the same branch that he did not answer. Only his eyelids quivered ever so little, so his mother knew he was pretending. “Come, come!” she repeated. “Little Hazel Squirrel is up and playing... more...

CHAPTER I HAPPY JACK DROPS A NUT     Save a little every day,    And for the future put away. Happy Jack. Happy Jack Squirrel sat on the tip of one of the highest branches of a big hickory tree. Happy Jack was up very early that morning. In fact, jolly, round, red Mr. Sun was still in his bed behind the Purple Hills when Happy Jack hopped briskly out of bed. He washed himself thoroughly and was ready... more...

When the time-gun boomed from Edinburgh Castle, Bobby gave a startled yelp. He was only a little country dog—the very youngest and smallest and shaggiest of Skye terriers—bred on a heathery slope of the Pentland hills, where the loudest sound was the bark of a collie or the tinkle of a sheep-bell. That morning he had come to the weekly market with Auld Jock, a farm laborer, and the Grassmarket of the Scottish capital lay in the narrow... more...