It was a lovely morning in the first of summer. Donal Grant was
descending a path on a hillside to the valley below--a sheep-track
of which he knew every winding as well as any boy his half-mile to
and from school. But he had never before gone down the hill with
the feeling that he was not ab ...
I took a walk on Spaulding's Farm the other afternoon. I saw the
setting sun lighting up the opposite side of a stately pine wood.
Its golden rays straggled into the aisles of the wood as into some
noble hall. I was impressed as if some ancient and altogether
admirable and shining family had ...
Robert Falconer, school-boy, aged fourteen, thought he had never
seen his father; that is, thought he had no recollection of having
ever seen him. But the moment when my story begins, he had begun to
doubt whether his belief in the matter was correct. And, as he went
on thinking, he became mo ...
"Come oot o' the gutter, ye nickum!" cried, in harsh, half-masculine
voice, a woman standing on the curbstone of a short, narrow, dirty
lane, at right angles to an important thoroughfare, itself none of
the widest or cleanest. She was dressed in dark petticoat and print
wrapper. One of her sh ...
I HAVE been asked to tell you about the back of the north wind.
An old Greek writer mentions a people who lived there,
and were so comfortable that they could not bear it any longer,
and drowned themselves. My story is not the same as his.
I do not think Herodotus had got the right account o ...
Curdie was the son of Peter the miner. He lived with his father
and mother in a cottage built on a mountain, and he worked with his
father inside the mountain.
There was once a little princess whose father was king over a great
country full of mountains and valleys. His palace was built upon
one of the mountains, and was very grand and beautiful. The
princess, whose name was Irene, was born there, but she was sent
soon after her birth, because her m ...