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Category： Author：Jean Webster琴·韦伯斯特
If you leave the city by the Porta Maggiore and take the Via Prænestina, which leads east into the Sabine hills, at some thirty-six kilometers’ distance from Rome you will pass on your left a grey-walled village climbing up the hillside.
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Category： Author：Robert Michael Ballantyne
Whitewing was a Red Indian of the North American prairies. Though not a chief of the highest standing, he was a very great man in the estimation of his tribe, for, besides being possessed of qualities which are highly esteemed among all savages—such as courage, strength, agility, and the like—he was a deep thinker, an...
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Category： Author：novel
All boys and girls know how to play it. There is the little rubber ball, which you toss in the air, catch up one of the odd iron prongs, without touching another, and while the ball is aloft; then you do the same with another, and again with another, until none is left. After that you seize a couple at a time, until all have been...
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Category： Author：Joseph A. Altsheler
The boy in the third wagon was suffering from exhaustion. The days and days of walking over the rolling prairie, under a brassy sun, the hard food of the train, and the short hours of rest, had put too severe a trial upon his delicate frame. Now, as he lay against the sacks and boxes that had been drawn up to form a sort of couch...
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Category： Author：Lyman Frank Baum 弗兰克·鲍姆
Some of my youthful readers are developing wonderful imaginations. This pleases me. Imagination has brought mankind through the Dark Ages to its present state of civilization. Imagination led Columbus to discover America. Imagination led Franklin to discover electricity. Imagination has given us the steam engine, the telephone, t...
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Category： Author：novel
If I must tell more tales of Raffles, I can but back to our earliest days together, and fill in the blanks left by discretion in existing annals. In so doing I may indeed fill some small part of an infinitely greater blank, across which you may conceive me to have stretched my canvas for the first frank portrait of my friend.
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Category： Author：novel
The heavens were a stainless blue, and the Moon shone out of them arrayed in silvery garments. One by one the sky’s matchless jewels, the stars, peeped out, studding that great ceiling with flashing diamond-points, until the whole dome was a glittering mass of blue and silver. The Ocean below seemed a big mirror, made to ca...
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Category： Author：novel
"The White Chief of the Ottawa" is not fiction. It is not a tale with a carefully concealed plot, meant to delude the reader at the beginning and to surprise him at the end. It is something stranger than fiction, a sketch of the life experiences of Philemon Wright and his family, the first settlers in the district of Ottawa. ...
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Category： Author：novel
Once on a dark winter's day, when the yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted and the shop windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd-looking little girl sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather slowly through the big thoroughfares.
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Category： Author：novel
OF all the fairy countries in the world none is more wonderful or beautiful than the country where the Fire Fairies live. Into that land no fairies of the earth, or air, or water dare venture. They would be seared, or changed to ash or vapor.
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