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Showing: 1-10 results of 192

A WORD TO PARENTS. The story of “Dick Whittington and his Cat” has so often amused the little ones, who never wearied of its repetition, that the author of the following version thought she might extend the pleasure derived from it by putting it in language which they could read for themselves. No word contains more than four letters, and none is over one syllable in length, so that any child who has the least knowledge of reading... more...

I. THE RIVER BANK The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and... more...

Mowgli's Brothers Now Rann the Kite brings home the nightThat Mang the Bat sets free—The herds are shut in byre and hutFor loosed till dawn are we.This is the hour of pride and power,Talon and tush and claw.Oh, hear the call!—Good hunting allThat keep the Jungle Law!Night-Song in the Jungle It was seven o'clock of a very warm evening in the Seeonee hills when Father Wolf woke up from his day's rest, scratched himself, yawned, and... more...

01 My Early Home The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it. Some shady trees leaned over it, and rushes and water-lilies grew at the deep end. Over the hedge on one side we looked into a plowed field, and on the other we looked over a gate at our master's house, which stood by the roadside; at the top of the meadow was a grove of fir trees, and at the bottom a running brook overhung by... more...

CHAPTER I In Which Zip Is Introduced to the Reader   Zip belongs to Dr. Elsworth, who lives in the big, white house with the green blinds on the edge of the village of Maplewood. And at the present minute he is asleep on the front porch on a soft cushion in an old-fashioned rocking-chair that is swaying gently to and fro, dreaming of the days when he was a puppy chasing the white spot on the end of his tail, thinking it was something... more...


I. GRANDPAPA'S HOUSE. "Now for the dear, dear country,Its trees and meadows fair,Its roses, cowslips, violets,Whose sweetness fills the air. "'Tis there we hear the musicOf lark's and blackbird's song,And merry little finches,Singing the whole day long."—C. H. One bright spring day, not so very long ago, three little children arrived at their grandfather's house. They had come to pay a long visit, as their parents were travelling... more...

CHAPTER I. SIR BEVIS. One morning as little "Sir" Bevis [such was his pet name] was digging in the farmhouse garden, he saw a daisy, and throwing aside his spade, he sat down on the grass to pick the flower to pieces. He pulled the pink-tipped petals off one by one, and as they dropped they were lost. Next he gathered a bright dandelion, and squeezed the white juice from the hollow stem, which drying presently, left his fingers stained with... more...

THE OLD GARRET Boys are not apt to forget a promise of a story. Frank and Harry did not fail to call upon their mother for the history of the old musket. "It appeared to me," said the mother, "that the old musket was not very willing to tell his story. He had a sort of old republican pride, and felt himself superior to the rest of the company in character and importance. When he had made himself heard in the world hitherto, it had always been... more...

CHAPTER I: Whitefoot Spends A Happy Winter In all his short life Whitefoot the Wood Mouse never had spent such a happy winter. Whitefoot is one of those wise little people who never allow unpleasant things of the past to spoil their present happiness, and who never borrow trouble from the future. Whitefoot believes in getting the most from the present. The things which are past are past, and that is all there is to it. There is no use in... more...

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...