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Category： Author：novel
Little Bear cried, "Boo-hoo! Boo-hoo!" He cried so hard that his tears fell into his bowl of bread and milk. The tears made the milk taste salty! "What is the matter?" asked Papa Bear.Little Bear did not say a word, he only cried, "Boo-hoo!"
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Category： Author：novel
This book comes from the reflections and experience of more than forty years spent in court. Aside from the practice of my profession, the topics I have treated are such as have always held my interest and inspired a taste for books that discuss the human machine with its manifestations and the causes of its varied activity. I ha...
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Category： Author：novel
The buying of orchids always has in it a certain speculative flavour. You have before you the brown shrivelled lump of tissue, and for the rest you must trust your judgment, or the auctioneer, or your good-luck, as your taste may incline. The plant may be moribund or dead, or it may be just a respectable purchase, fair value for ...
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Category： Author：novel
In the execution of its purpose to give educational value and moral worth to the recreational activities of the boyhood of America, the leaders of the Boy Scout Movement quickly learned that to effectively carry out its program, the boy must be influenced not only in his out-of-door life but also in the diversions of his other le...
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Category： Author：novel
Amory Blaine inherited from his mother every trait, except the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for Byron and a habit of drowsing over the Encyclopedia Britannica, grew wealthy at thirty through the death of two elder brothers, successful Chicago brokers...
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Category： Author：novel
Besides "Galway" Mike, who was reading the Pahrump County News behind the bar, there were three men in Mike's Place. One of the three was a stranger. He sat drowsily at the corner table, hat pulled over his eyes, whisky untasted. The other two stood at the bar.
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Category： Author：novel
The Spanish character has expressed itself in sculpture more forcibly than in painting. In no other country, perhaps, do we find a people whose native taste for carving in wood and stone is so deep-rooted, so essentially an outgrowth of the strong life of the race.
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Category： Author：novel
"Witch! Witch!" The cry was among the walkers, but he didn't bother to track it down. It was no longer a fighting word to Hammen. He wore it like a badge of honor. It tasted of brass, but it gleamed on him.
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Category： Author：novel
The autumn dusk had stained the sky with shadows and orange oblongs traced the windows in my neighbors\' homes as Jules de Grandin and I sat sipping kaiserschmarrn and coffee in the study after dinner. \"Mon Dieu,\" the little Frenchman sighed, \"I have the mal du pays, my friend. The little children run and play along the roadways at ...
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Category： Author：novel
Hereditary taste for wandering—A first adventure—“Little girls you must not be tired”—How Carlo was captured by savages in West Africa—Life in Ballarat—Nothing for a woman to do but marry—Marriage—Plans for wandering twenty years hence—Life in Warrnambool—Widowhood—May as well travel now there is nothing left—London for an aspirant in ...
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