Diary of a Pilgrimage
Category： Author：novel
Diary of a Pilgrimage is another edition of Jerome's English wit in the vein of Three Men in a Boat and Three Men on the Bummel.
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Category： Author：novel
Diary of a Pilgrimage is another edition of Jerome's English wit in the vein of Three Men in a Boat and Three Men on the Bummel.
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Category： Author：Lucy Maud Montgomery
MRS. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies’ eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secret...
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Category： Author：novel
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...
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Category： Author：novel
I got up at siven. Washed. Dressed. Made me bed. I set the kittle on the gas stove and then furyissly rung the brikfust bell. The famly begun to get up about 9. Mr. John was the first to ate. He guv a look sideways at the appytising eggs befure him and the luvly staming coffee and thin wid a shuv pooshed thim aside. He tuk up his paper...
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Category： Author：novel
The real trouble was that Jorgenson saw things as a business man does. But also, and contradictorily, he saw them as right and just, or as wrong and intolerable. As a business man, he should have kept his mind on business and never bothered about Ganti. As a believer in right and wrong, it would have been wiser for him to have stayed o...
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Category： Author：novel
Petulantly Nancy Howard cast aside her letter and buried her chin in her cupped palms. “Oh, the woes of having a learned father!” she sighed. “Here is Joe’s letter, telling me how everything is starting up at home; and here am I, Nancy Howard, buried in this picturesque, polyglot wilderness, just because ...
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Category： Author：novel
“Harvest is ended and summer is gone,” quoted Anne Shirley, gazing across the shorn fields dreamily. She and Diana Barry had been picking apples in the Green Gables orchard, but were now resting from their labors in a sunny corner, where airy fleets of thistledown drifted by on the wings of a wind that was still summe...
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Category： Author：novel
A tall, slim girl, “half-past sixteen,” with serious gray eyes and hair which her friends called auburn, had sat down on the broad red sandstone doorstep of a Prince Edward Island farmhouse one ripe afternoon in August, firmly resolved to construe so many lines of Virgil.
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Category： Author：novel
"Thanks be, I'm done with geometry, learning or teaching it," said Anne Shirley, a trifle vindictively, as she thumped a somewhat battered volume of Euclid into a big chest of books, banged the lid in triumph, and sat down upon it, looking at Diana Wright across the Green Gables garret, with gray eyes that were like a m...
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Category： Author：novel
An express train was dashing along a line of rails in the heart of England. On one of the first-class carriages there had been a board, bearing the intimation \'For Ladies Only,\' but the guard took it off when the train first started. It had come many miles since. Seated inside, the only passenger in that compartment, was a little gir...
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