Child Classics, Book 5Bobbs-Merrill, 1909 - Readers |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 48
Page 12
... Round Pool ? And you shall catch your own fish , Maggie , and put the worms on , and everything - won't it be fun ? " Maggie's answer was to throw her arms around Tom's neck and hug him , and hold her cheek against his without speaking ...
... Round Pool ? And you shall catch your own fish , Maggie , and put the worms on , and everything - won't it be fun ? " Maggie's answer was to throw her arms around Tom's neck and hug him , and hold her cheek against his without speaking ...
Page 14
... but , Tom , they're all dead . " Tom stopped immediately in his walk , and turned round to Maggie . " You forgot to feed ' em , then ? " he said , his color heightening for a moment , but soon subsiding . 14 THE FIFTH READER.
... but , Tom , they're all dead . " Tom stopped immediately in his walk , and turned round to Maggie . " You forgot to feed ' em , then ? " he said , his color heightening for a moment , but soon subsiding . 14 THE FIFTH READER.
Page 16
... round and ran into the house , and up to her attic , where she sat on the floor , and laid her head against the worm - eaten shelf , with a crush- ing sense of misery . Tom was come home , and she had thought how happy she should be ...
... round and ran into the house , and up to her attic , where she sat on the floor , and laid her head against the worm - eaten shelf , with a crush- ing sense of misery . Tom was come home , and she had thought how happy she should be ...
Page 17
... round of the premises , walking in and out where he pleased , and whittling sticks without any particular reason , except that he didn't whittle sticks at school , to think of Maggie and the effect his anger had produced on her . He ...
... round of the premises , walking in and out where he pleased , and whittling sticks without any particular reason , except that he didn't whittle sticks at school , to think of Maggie and the effect his anger had produced on her . He ...
Page 19
... round his neck , sobbing , " O Tom , please forgive me - I can't bear it - I will always be good - always remember things - do love me - please , dear Tom ! " 66 There were tender fibers in the lad that had been used to answer to ...
... round his neck , sobbing , " O Tom , please forgive me - I can't bear it - I will always be good - always remember things - do love me - please , dear Tom ! " 66 There were tender fibers in the lad that had been used to answer to ...
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Common terms and phrases
Abridged Andy Antony arms asked Bashkirs battle bells Ben-Hur born Brutus burned Cæsar called Camelot cannon Captain chaise Cranford cried Crito dark dead deck Doctor Don Quixote Ernest eyes father fight fire fleet gave give glory hand hath head hear heard heart Hector honor horse Ichabod Indiana John Halifax JULIUS CÆSAR King knew Lady of Shalott land laughed letter live look Lord Maggie Mark Antony master Master of Ballantrae mother never night noble Pahom Phil Adams Pickwick poet poor postmaster Ralph Waldo Emerson road Robert Louis Stevenson round saddle Second Citizen seemed ship side Sigurd silent Silver simple old soul Squire Stone Face stood story tell thee thing thou thought trees turned versts walk wife wind Winkle word Zoeterwoude
Popular passages
Page 53 - I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams ; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Page 229 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too...
Page 31 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Page 166 - Far-called, our navies melt away, On dune and headland sinks the fire; Lo all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre. Judge of the nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget, lest we forget.
Page 32 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At' that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Page 226 - Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting.place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground.
Page 303 - Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging.
Page 278 - Caesar lov'd you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men ; And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad. 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs ; For, if you should, O, what would come of it!
Page 216 - For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths— for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead.
Page 309 - ... full many a gem of purest ray serene the dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear : full many a flower is born to blush unseen, and waste its sweetness on the desert air. some village Hampden that with dauntless breast the little tyrant of his fields withstood, some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.