Gbooks: 195 books

    Till the wet grass is strewn with petals wan,— So paled the golden Helen at his word.           XIX.     But swift the rose into her cheek return’d

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     When Hazel was fourteen she died, leaving her treasure—an old, dirty, partially illegible manuscript-book of spells and charms and other gipsy lore—to her daughter.     Her one request was that she might be buried in the Callow under the yellow larch needles, and not in a churchyard....

     Weyman laughed joyously.     "Fooled 'em—fooled 'em all!" he told himself. "We'll wager a dollar to a doughnut that we're the toughest looking specimen that ever drifted down from Coronation Gulf, or any other gulf. A DOUGHNUT! I'd trade a gold nugget as big as my fist for a doughnut or a piece of pie right this minute.

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     Early in the evening the old hall was shut up closely to keep out as much as possible the sound of the storm that roared through the mountain chasms and cannonaded the walls of the house as if determined to force an entrance. As soon as she had seen that all was safe, Mrs. Condiment went to bed and went to sleep.

house."   "Are we near the house?" said I, suddenly checked by the idea.   "Down there, Miss," replied he, pointing with his whip to certain stacks of twisted chimneys rising out of a group of trees, in deep shadow against the crimson light, and which lay just beyond a great square lawn at the base of the steep slope of a hundred yards, on the edge of which we stood.  ...

     I have purposely left to the last the subject of Bindings, as this, being more immediately cognate to Mr. Davenport's book, may fairly be treated at rather greater length. If the French dictum 'la reliure est un art tout français' is not without its historical justification, it is at least...

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     His chief fault was a strong and uncurbed will, and he unfortunately had a quick temper. He was just sixteen years old, and was strong and hardy. He had dark eyes and hair, and a pleasing, attractive face.     Randy's most intimate friend, Ned Chapman, differed from him in every respect,...

     "He said that Otto had been given to a party of Indians, and they had started westward toward the setting sun with him."     "But why did they turn him over to the strangers?"     "Deerfoot was not there to ask the Sauk," was the reply of the young Shawanoe.

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     My Friends: Oh! but yours has been such an interesting life, so varied, and you can bring in much outside yourself. Besides, you have kept a diary, you say, ever since you were twelve, and you have such an unusually long memory. A pity to waste all that. You simply must!     I: Very well,...