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Showing: 21-30 results of 1892

My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am a Presbyterian. This is what my mother told me, I do not know these nice distinctions myself. To me they are only fine large words meaning nothing. My mother had a fondness for such; she liked to say them, and see other dogs look surprised and envious, as wondering how she got so much education. But, indeed, it was not real education; it was only show: she got the words by listening in... more...

MOTHERLESS When the children clamour for a story, my wife says to me, "Tell them how you bought a flat iron for a farthing." Which I very gladly do; for three reasons. In the first place, it is about myself, and so I take an interest in it. Secondly, it is about some one very dear to me, as will appear hereafter. Thirdly, it is the only original story in my somewhat limited collection, and I am naturally rather proud of the favour with which it... more...

CHAPTER I. "You are the comfort of my life, Effie. If you make up your mind to go away, what is to become of me?" The speaker was a middle-aged woman. She was lying on a sofa in a shabby little parlor. The sofa was covered with horse-hair, the room had a faded paper, and faded chintz covered the shabby furniture. The woman's pleading words were emphasized by her tired eyes and worn face. She looked full at the young girl to whom she spoke.... more...

CHAPTER I WHEREIN ELNORA GOES TO HIGH SCHOOL AND LEARNS MANY LESSONS NOT FOUND IN HER BOOKS "Elnora Comstock, have you lost your senses?" demanded the angry voice of Katharine Comstock while she glared at her daughter. "Why mother!" faltered the girl. "Don't you 'why mother' me!" cried Mrs. Comstock. "You know very well what I mean. You've given me no peace until you've had your way about this going to school business; I've fixed you good... more...

CHAPTER I. RUPERT'S LECTURES—THE OLD YELLOW LEATHER BOOK. We were very happy—I, Rupert, Henrietta, and Baby Cecil. The only thing we found fault with in our lives was that there were so few events in them. It was particularly provoking, because we were so well prepared for events—any events. Rupert prepared us. He had found a fat old book in the garret, bound in yellow leather, at the end of which were "Directions how to act... more...


CHAPTER I A Pixie Girl "If I'd known!" groaned Winifred Cranston, otherwise Wendy, with a note of utter tragedy in her usually cheerful voice. "If I'd only known! D'you think I'd have come trotting back here with my baggage? Not a bit of it! Nothing in this wide world should have dragged me. I'd have turned up my hair—yes, it's quite long enough to turn up, Jess Paget, so you needn't look at it so scornfully; it's as nice as yours, and... more...

AT PLAY. Three little foals you see at play.They romp and sport all through the day,But sometimes they are most sedateAnd try to ape their mothers’ gait. They wheel and race and leap and prance,And sometimes they are said to dance:But always they will stand and stareAt anyone who passes there.   [4] [5] [6] SCHOOLING. The horse, like us, must go to schoolTo learn by precept and by rule.Like us, he does not love the... more...

Half a Dozen Daughters. There were six of them altogether—six great big girls,—and they lived in a great big house, in the middle of a long high road, one end of which loses itself in London town, while the other goes stretching away over the county of Hertford. Years ago, John Gilpin had ridden his famous race down that very road, and Christabel loved to look out of her bedroom window and imagine that she saw him flying along, with... more...

A HUNDRED FABLES OF LA FONTAINE The Grasshopper and the Ant. A grasshopper gaySang the summer away,And found herself poorBy the winter's first roar.Of meat or of bread,Not a morsel she had!So a-begging she went,To her neighbour the ant,For the loan of some wheat,Which would serve her to eat,Till the season came round."I will pay you," she saith,"On an animal's faith,Double weight in the poundEre the harvest be bound."The ant is a... more...

Chapter 1: A Spy in the Household. On the borders of Lancashire and Westmoreland, two centuries since, stood Lynnwood, a picturesque mansion, still retaining something of the character of a fortified house. It was ever a matter of regret to its owner, Sir Marmaduke Carstairs, that his grandfather had so modified its construction, by levelling one side of the quadrangle, and inserting large mullion windows in that portion inhabited by the family,... more...