General Books

EONARD DOBBIN had a humble cottage upon Squire Courtenay's estate; but although the cottage was humble, it was always kept neat and clean, and was a pattern of everything that a poor man's dwelling should be. The white-washed walls, the smoothly raked gravel walk, and the sanded floor, were so many evidences that Leonard was a careful and a thrifty man; and while some of his poorer neighbours... more...

CHAPTER I Across the now placidly flowing Lumano where it widened into almost the proportions of a lake just below the picturesque Red Mill, a bank of tempestuous clouds was shouldering into view above the sky line of the rugged and wooded hills. These slate-colored clouds, edged with pallid light, foredoomed the continuance of the peaceful summer afternoon. Not a breath of air stirred on the near side... more...

I.   We who live in comfortable country homes, secure from every invader, find it difficult to conceive the trials that beset the hardy pioneers who settled our Western country during the last century. In those days, and for many a year afterward, hostile Indians swarmed in every direction, wherever the white man had made a clearing, or started a home for himself in the wilderness. Sometimes the... more...

CHAPTER I THE BROKEN BRIDGE "Aren't you glad, Nan? Aren't you terrible glad?" "Why, of course I am, Flossie!" "And aren't you glad, too, Bert?" Flossie Bobbsey, who had first asked this question of her sister, now paused in front of her older brother. She looked up at him smiling as he cut away with his knife at a soft piece of wood he was shaping into a boat for... more...

THE EVERGREEN RIVER ON THE RAMPAGE "What's the latest weather report down at the post office, Max?" "More rain coming, they say, and everybody is as gloomy as a funeral." "My stars! the poor old town of Carson is getting a heavy dose this spring, for a fact; nothing but rain, rain, and then some more rain." "Never was anything to beat it, Bandy-legs, and they say even... more...

The Story of Nelson. My great ambition as a boy was to be a sailor; the idea of becoming one occupied my thoughts by day and influenced my dreams by night. I delighted in reading naval histories and exploits and tales of the sea, and I looked upon Rodney, Howe, Nelson, and Saint Vincent, as well as Duncan, Collingwood, Exmouth, and Sir Sidney Smith, as far greater men, and more worthy of admiration,... more...

The Visitor from the Cellar. The whole house in London was dull and gloomy, its lofty rooms and staircases were filled with a sort of misty twilight all day, and the sun very seldom looked in at its windows. Ruth Lorimer thought, however, that the very dullest room of all was the nursery, in which she had to pass so much of her time. It was so high up that the people and carts and horses in the street... more...

CHAPTER I A Tornado Towards the end of a long hot day, a shabby mixed train stopped at one of the most wonderful townships in the world, Hergott Springs, the first of the great cattle-trucking depots of Central Australia. It was dark, but a hurricane lantern, swung under a veranda, showed that the men who were waiting for the train were not ordinary men. They were men of the desert. Most of them were... more...

THE FOURTH VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY "I wonder why the yaks are so wild and difficult to handle this morning?" said George, as he stopped the wagon and tried to calm them by soothing words. At that moment Harry, who was in the lead, sprang back with a cry of alarm, and quietly, but with-evident excitement, whispered: "There are some big animals over to the right!" The Professor was out of the... more...

LITTLE BOY BLUE Little Boy Blue was not his real name. Oh, no! His real name was Richard Snow. But his mother always called him "Little Boy Blue." His father called him "Boy Blue," too. Every one called him "Little Boy Blue," and so I will. Boy Blue's eyes were as blue as the sky on a summer day. When he was a baby he always wore a blue ribbon in his hair. When he was five... more...