The Tale of Reddy Woodpecker
Category： Author：Arthur Scott Bailey
If you had been in Farmer Green's door-yard on a certain day in May you would have heard an unusual twittering and chirping and squawking.
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Category： Author：Arthur Scott Bailey
If you had been in Farmer Green's door-yard on a certain day in May you would have heard an unusual twittering and chirping and squawking.
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Category： Author：novel
If all reading mankind had time to read Lockhart’s Life of Scott, a brief volume on Sir Walter would be a thing without excuse. I am informed, however, by the Editor of this Series that the appreciation of Time, in our age, does not permit Lockhart to be universally read. I have therefore tried to compress as much as I may of the essen...
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Category： Author：novel
Any people who may happen to have read the story of “Wilful, the Conceited Pig,” will recollect how he had called up his friend, Miss Peck, one night, from the henhouse, where there had been a great disagreement between her and Cock-a-doodle, and how they had set off together to the Queen’s house, to tell Her Majesty ...
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Category： Author：novel
Once upon a time, there was an old man in Lochmaben, who made his livelihood by going round the country playing on his harp. He was very old, and very blind, and there was such a simple air about him, that people were inclined to think that he had not all his wits, and they always called him \"The silly Lochmaben Harper.\"
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Category： Author：novel
The speaker was a tall, pompous-looking man, whose age appeared to verge close upon fifty. He was sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair, and looked as if it would be quite impossible to deviate from his position of unbending rigidity.
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Category： Author：novel
Scott Burton sat on the porch of the little cabin on the edge of the forest and looked absently out across the wide beach at the restless waters of the Gulf of Mexico. No one ever would have guessed from his expression now how crazy he had been to see that gulf only the day before. He apparently did not see the water at all. The big wa...
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Category： Author：novel
Scott Burton leaned eagerly forward and searched the scenery which rolled steadily past the Pullman window. The other occupants of the car, worn out with the long journey and surfeited with scenery, centered their attention on their books or tried to sleep away the weary miles. They had seen it all, or at least too much of it. But to S...
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Category： Author：novel
The air was cooling down toward evening at Sebastian, where an unpicturesque collection of wooden houses stand upon a branch line on the Canadian prairie. The place is not attractive during the earlier portion of the short northern summer, when for the greater part of every week it lies sweltering in heat, in spite of the strong west w...
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Category： Author：novel
Through the whole of the night, chopping, shifting winds had been tearing through the streets of London, now from the north, now from the south, now from the east, now from the west, now from all points of the compass at once; which last caprice--taking place for at least the twentieth time in the course of the hour which the bells of ...
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Category： Author：novel
Where—and what—is the “Scott Country”? Edinburgh—his birthplace, the centre of his literary and legal activities, the scene of The Heart of Midlothian and of the Chronicles of the Canongate, his “own romantic town”—might surely claim to enclose, if not the kernel, an essential part of the interest that surrounds the fame and the name o...
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