Non-Classifiable
- Non-Classifiable 1768
Non-Classifiable Books
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Chapter I The Pony Express was the first rapid transit and the first fast mail line across the continent from the Missouri River to the Pacific Coast. It was a system by means of which messages were carried swiftly on horseback across the plains and deserts, and over the mountains of the far West. It brought the Atlantic coast and the Pacific slope ten days nearer to each other. It had a brief...
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CHAPTER I. ORIGIN, GROWTH, AND CHIEF CULTIVATED SPECIES OF COTTON PLANT. In the of this little work is a picture of a cotton field showing the plants bearing mature pods which contain ripe fibre and seed, and in stands a number of bobbins or reels of cotton thread, in which there is one having no less than seventeen hundred and sixty yards of sewing cotton, or one English mile of thread, on it. As both...
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CHAPTER I COLVERSHAM "Oh, say, Bobbie, quit that algebra and come on out! You've stuck at it a full hour already. What's the use of cramming any more? You'll get through the exam all right; you know you always do," protested Van Blake as he flipped a scrap of blotting paper across the study table at his roommate. Bob Carlton looked up from his book. "Perhaps you're...
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CHAPTER ITHE BRETTON FAMILY Madame Antoinette Bretton went for the third time to the door of her tiny cottage and, shading her eyes, looked anxiously up the side of the ice-capped mountain that flanked the garden. There was still no one in sight, and with a shake of her head she returned to the coarse grey socks she was knitting. It was late afternoon, and through the stillness she could hear the roar...
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INTO THE WOODS Theo Swift dropped into a chair before the blazing fire in the log cabin, and drew a long breath of delight. At last his dream had come true; he was in the heart of the Maine woods! It was a wonderful experience for a boy of his age to be his father's companion on a fishing trip. Each spring when Dr. Swift had packed his tackle for his annual vacation into the wilderness, and Theo...
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1. POCAHONTAS Long, long ago, when the Indians owned the land, there lived in Virginia, near the river afterwards called the James, a little girl, the Princess Pocahontas, daughter of the great chief Powhatan. Pocahontas was her father's favorite child, and the pet of the whole tribe; even the fierce warriors loved her sunny ways. She was a child of nature, and the birds trusted her and came at...
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by:
Georg Ebers
TO MY SONS. When I began the incidents of yore,Still in my soul's depths treasured, to record,A voice within said: Soon, life's journey o'er,Thy portrait sole remembrance will afford. And, ere the last hour also strikes for thee,Search thou the harvest of the vanished years.Not futile was thy toil, if thou canst seeThat for thy sons fruit from one seed appears. Upon the course of thine...
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by:
Glyn Barlow
BEFORE THE BEGINNING Three hundred years ago, Madras, under the name of 'Madraspatnam' was a tiny rural village on the Coromandel Coast. Scattered about in the neighbourhood there were other rural villages, such as Egmore, Vepery, and Triplicane, which are crowded districts in the great city of Madras to-day. In Triplicane there was an ancient temple, a centre of pilgrimage, dating, like many...
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CHAPTER I ETER CODDINGTON sat in the afternoon sunshine on the steps of his big colonial home looking absently out over the circular drive, and the quaint terraced garden, to the red-tiled roof of the garage beyond. But he was not thinking of the garage; he could not, in fact, even have told you the color of its vivid tiling. No! He had far more important things to think of than that—disquieting...
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by:
James Paton
CHAPTER I. OUR COTTAGE HOME. MY early days were all spent in the beautiful county of Dumfries, which Scotch folks call the Queen of the South. There, in a small cottage, on the farm of Braehead, in the parish of Kirkmahoe, I was born on the 24th May, 1824. My father, James Paton, was a stocking manufacturer in a small way; and he and his young wife, Janet Jardine Rogerson, lived on terms of warm...
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