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Category： Author：novel
All this had happened only last week, and now Reginald lay on a hospital cot in his own little room in the cottage, and Harry and Nan were waiting on the porch till the doctor should come out and they could be admitted.
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Category： Author：novel
Here, then, on this lovely day, near the end of the year 1812, you are in Alemtejo—the largest, poorest, and, in every sense, worst peopled province of Portugal. As its name implies, you are, as to Lisbon, beyond the Tagus. Hasten eastward over this sandy, arid plain, covered with a forest of stunted sea-pines, through whos...
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Category： Author：novel
In the “but” or living-room (as it was termed in Scotland) of a little whitewashed thatched cottage near Auld Ayr in the land of the Doon, sat a quiet, sedate trio of persons consisting of two men and a woman. She who sat at the wheel busily engaged in spinning was the mistress of the cot, a matronly, middle-aged woma...
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Category： Author：novel
Brackley Hall was a fine old place in the lovely country of Devon and had been in the possession of the Etheridges for centuries.
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Category： Author：novel
The tall young man on the station platform turned and looked with a slight frown at the battered station wagon across the street. He was dressed in a gray uniform and wore a tall military hat. The letters W. M. I. in gold showed plainly on the hat. It meant Woodcrest Military Institute, and Lieutenant Sommers was an important part of t...
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Category： Author：novel
It was late on the afternoon of a sultry day in April, which had been passed amid active preparations, when a dark column of smoke, streaming over the tall shipping in the crowded harbour of Bombay, proclaimed the necessity of a hurried adieu to a concourse of friends who still thronged the deck; and scarcely was the last wish for succ...
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Category： Author：novel
It is a perplexing thing when the making of history is often terrible, sometimes tragic, but hardly ever tedious, that the reading of history should be considered uniformly grey. In compiling the present book I shrank from the word ‘History’—I altered it to ‘Story.’ It is the same thing, but it does not sound so depressing.
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Category： Author：novel
The scenery of the less cultivated parts of our native Scotland may, generally speaking, be said to be checkered, as human life is with its events; for as, during our pilgrimage here on earth, evil continually succeeds good, and good evil, so are beauty and deformity seen to alternate with each other on the simple face of Caledonia.
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Category： Author：novel
There is a long, low, flat-topped, and prettily wooded eminence, that rises out of the middle of the bonny haughs of Kilmaichly, at some distance below the junction of the rivers Aven and Livat. I don’t remember that it has any particular name, but it looks, for all the world, like the fragment of some ancient plain, that must have be...
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Category： Author：novel
The roads at the crossing were wide and smooth, with cool woods on either side, but beyond them to the left rose the high, jagged, yellow-and-black mass of the mountains, bare on their upper reaches, and wooded in the shelter of the valleys, a splintered peak or two farthest inland showing snowcapped even in August. They dominated the ...
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