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The land dropped abruptly down from the gate, and a thick, shrubby growth of young apple orchard almost hid the little weather-grey house from the road. This was why the young man who opened the sagging gate could not see that it was boarded up, and did not cease his cheerful whistling until he had... Read More
It was a warm, golden-cloudy, lovable afternoon. In the big living-room at Ingleside Susan Baker sat down with a certain grim satisfaction hovering about her like an aura; it was four o'clock and Susan, who had been working incessantly since six that morning, felt that she had fairly earned an hour of repose and gossip.... Read More
It is no exaggeration to say that what Longfellow did for Acadia, Miss Montgomery has done for Prince Edward Island. More than a million readers, young people as well as their parents and uncles and aunts, possess in the picture-galleries of their memories the exquisite landscapes of Avonlea, limned with as poetic a pencil as... Read More
To the Memory of Goldwin Lapp, Robert Brookes and Morley Shier Who Made the Supreme Sacrifice That the Happy Valleys of Their Home Land Might be Kept Sacred from the Ravage of the Invader It was a clear, apple-green evening in May, and Four Winds Harbour was mirroring back the clouds of the golden west... Read More
"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... Read More
All precious things discovered late To those that seek them issue forth, For Love in sequel works with Fate, And draws the veil from hidden worth. —TENNYSON “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... Read More
“Life was a rose-lipped comrade With purple flowers dripping from her fingers.” —The Author. TO THE MEMORY OF Aunt Mary Lawson WHO TOLD ME MANY OF THE TALES REPEATED BY THE STORY GIRL Once upon a time we all walked on the golden road. It was a fair highway, through the Land of Lost Delight;... Read More
Anne Shirley was curled up on the window-seat of Theodora Dix’s sitting-room one Saturday evening, looking dreamily afar at some fair starland beyond the hills of sunset. Anne was visiting for a fortnight of her vacation at Echo Lodge, where Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Irving were spending the summer, and she often ran over to... Read More
To My Cousin Frederica E. Campbell In Remembrance of Old Days, Old Dreams, and Old Laughter “I do like a road, because you can be always wondering what is at the end of it.” The Story Girl said that once upon a time. Felix and I, on the May morning when we left Toronto for... Read More
TO MY COUSIN Beatrice A. McIntyre THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED “Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace, But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny’s face; As still was her look, and as still was her ee, As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea, Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea.... Read More
Flowers spring to blossom where she walks The careful ways of duty, Our hard, stiff lines of life with her Are flowing curves of beauty. —WHITTIER 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... Read More
Thrush Hill, Oct. 5, 18—. It is all settled at last, and in another week I shall have left Thrush Hill. I am a little bit sorry and a great bit glad. I am going to Montreal to spend the winter with Alicia. Alicia—it used to be plain Alice when she lived at Thrush Hill... Read More
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... Read More
At sunset Sidney hurried to her room to take off the soiled and faded cotton dress she had worn while milking. She had milked eight cows and pumped water for the milk-cans afterward in the fag-end of a hot summer day. She did that every night, but tonight she had hurried more than usual because... Read More
"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" fretted Nan Wallace, twisting herself about uneasily on the sofa in her pretty room. "I never thought before that the days could be so long as they are now." "Poor you!" said her sister Maude sympathetically. Maude was moving briskly about the room, putting it into the beautiful order that Mother... Read More
"You might as well try to move the rock of Gibraltar as attempt to change Uncle Abimelech's mind when it is once made up," said Murray gloomily. Murray is like dear old Dad; he gets discouraged rather easily. Now, I'm not like that; I'm more like Mother's folks. As Uncle Abimelech has never failed to... Read More
It was the forenoon of a hazy, breathless day, and Dan Phillips was trouting up one of the back creeks of the Carleton pond. It was somewhat cooler up the creek than out on the main body of water, for the tall birches and willows, crowding down to the brim, threw cool, green shadows across... Read More