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by:
Dan Smoot
FOREWORD On May 30, 1961, President Kennedy departed for Europe and a summit meeting with Khrushchev[A]. Every day the Presidential tour was given banner headlines; and the meeting with Khrushchev was reported as an event of earth-shaking consequence. It was an important event. But a meeting which was probably far more important, and which had commanded no front-page headlines at all, ended quietly on...
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THE SLOTHFUL TOAD The slothful Toad (his real name was Toadie Todson) crawled out of his hole and looked about. He saw a Bee near by buzzing busily over a rich large clover blossom, and a sturdy Ant dragging a white parcel marked "Food" toward a round sandy house, and a cheery little Cricket marching rapidly up a green stalk in search of a dinner for three hungry little Cricketses. It was a...
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by:
G. Whitfield Ray
INTRODUCTION "Through Five Republics on Horseback" has all the elements of a great missionary book. It is written by an author who is an eye-witness of practically all that he records, and one who by his explorations and travels has won for himself the title of the "Livingstone of South America." The scenes depicted by the writer and the glimpses into the social, political and religious...
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by:
F. L. Morrison
FROM MOBILISATION TO THE EAST. The period from the date of mobilisation to the date on which we began our active service experiences we propose to pass over quickly, as the events which happened then seem now of small interest to those coming later. With orders prepared carefully in peace time, mobilisation went smoothly. The Normal School, Glasgow, became a barracks and a place for the busy public of...
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by:
Sax Rohmer
THE LADY OF THE CIVET FURS Henry Leroux wrote busily on. The light of the table-lamp, softened and enriched by its mosaic shade, gave an appearance of added opulence to the already handsome appointments of the room. The little table-clock ticked merrily from half-past eleven to a quarter to twelve. Into the cozy, bookish atmosphere of the novelist's study penetrated the muffled chime of Big Ben;...
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by:
George MacDonald
I do not intend to carry my story one month beyond the hour when I saw that my boyhood was gone and my youth arrived; a period determined to some by the first tail-coat, to me by a different sign. My reason for wishing to tell this first portion of my history is, that when I look back upon it, it seems to me not only so pleasant, but so full of meaning, that, if I can only tell it right, it must prove...
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by:
George MacDonald
NEWBURY. Early the next morning, after Richard had left the cottage for Raglan castle, mistress Rees was awaked by the sound of a heavy blow against her door. When with difficulty she had opened it, Richard or his dead body, she knew not which, fell across her threshold. Like poor Marquis, he had come to her for help and healing. When he got out of the quarry, he made for the highroad, but missing the...
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CHAPTER I. Thornycroft Farm, near Barbury Green, July 1, 190-. In alluding to myself as a Goose Girl, I am using only the most modest of my titles; for I am also a poultry-maid, a tender of Belgian hares and rabbits, and a shepherdess; but I particularly fancy the rôle of Goose Girl, because it recalls the German fairy tales of my early youth, when I always yearned, but never hoped, to be...
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CHAPTER I THE BLUE BIRD The tall youth, turning to the right, went down a gentle slope until he came to a little stream, where he knelt and drank. Despite his weariness, his thirst and his danger he noticed the silvery color of the water, and its soft sighing sound, as it flowed over its pebbly bed, made a pleasant murmur in his ear. Robert Lennox always had an eye for the beautiful, and the flashing...
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Chapter One. Dr Martin wore a close-fitting black silk cap. Why? Well, the answer to the old riddle, “Why does a miller wear a white hat?” is, “To keep his head warm.” That answer would do for a reply to the question why this grey, anxious-looking Dr Martin wore a close-fitting black silk cap as he sat poring over an old book opposite Phil Carleton, who also bent over a book; but he was not...
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