March 2010 - ourproject-public - lists.ourproject.org

F a Real Boy" ILLUSTRATED BY WORTH BREHM Cosmopolitan Book
by Briand Nagle 28 Mar '10

28 Mar '10

T. i feel jest like them only i aint got enny horns. September 31. brite and fair. i have been scrubed again. i bet they was sum fishooks in that seesand. it felt so. enyway i am a octerune now and most white. mother says one moar greecing will be enuf. September 32, 186---the last time i was greeced i had the itch. it wasent as bad as this but i remember it well. September 33 186---today i went down town. i have been away a long time but the town looks about the saim. Kelley and Gardners have sole 2 gnifes and Fogg and Fellows have sole sum pipes and a cuppy Olliver Optics magazene and old Luke Langly has sole a gointed comb and a tin horn and wagon but in other respecks things look about the saim. i am glad i wasent away long enuf for the place to chainge. that wood be dreadful. i herd of a man onct whitch was sent to jale for his hoal life. bimby they was a new king in the land and he let out the men whitch was in jale this poar man was so glad to get out that he run 9 miles all the way home but when he got home evrything had chainged. where his house was stood a methydist chapel and where his frends house was they had bilt a pest house for small pocks pashients and where the green house stood they had bilt a glue factory and where the libary stood they was a slauter house. but in spite of all these improovments he did not feal to home and he was verry loansum. so he went back to the king and gnelt down on his gnees and sed nobble and venial monnark send me back to jale for my friends are scatered and my house is gone. so the king whitch was a verry kind harted monnark sent him back to jale where he lived hapily many years on bread and water and sumtimes only water. so i know jest how he felt when i come down town the ferst time to see if things had chainged. but they havent mutch. September 34, 186---well o

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smiled on Gladys Todd as plotting agains
by Bodrey Helland 28 Mar '10

28 Mar '10

again, but I stayed them. I knew that it was futile to speak, that my voice was falling on dulled ears, but what else could I do to stir him to fight for life? "I'll tell them--we will tell them together," I cried. "We will go home to Penelope, you and I, and they shall know how you fought. And they will be proud of you, Professor; I know they will. And how glad they will be to see you--how glad Penelope will be! Can't you hear me?" I looked up, straining my ears for the sound of hoofs, but the road was as quiet as any country lane before dawn. I leaned over the dark form and listened, and I knew that his march was ended. CHAPTER XXVI Through what quiet lanes of trivial circumstance do we move toward the momentous events of our lives? We go our way, whistling thoughtlessly; we turn a corner and stand face to face with the all-important. In my boyhood I went fishing and tumbled into a mountain stream; I overheard Boller of '89 speaking to Gladys Todd; I walked the Avenue at half past three in the afternoon and met Penelope Blight. How finely spun is the thread which holds together my story! A firmer foothold on the bank, an ear less quick to catch an undertone, a moment's delay before setting out on my daily airing, and there might have been no story to tell you; the valley might have been all the world I know and the wall of mountains my mind's horizon. Then I come to the matter of Philip Bennett's motor. It was always breaking down. The delays that it caused as we journeyed north from Naples were annoying, but at the time these were trivial events, as we usually found a comfortable inn where we could wait while Bennett's man lay in the dust and peered up into the vitals of the machine. It was an adventurous thing to trust one's self t

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Ar, and sternly bade them begone out of his p
by Chatelain Gadomski 27 Mar '10

27 Mar '10

of granite, which were dragged to the place on wooden sledges; and, as they had no cranes to lift the stones into their places on the walls, they were obliged to build mounds of sand and rough bricks, and roll up each stone gradually with wooden levers, until they got it into its proper place. It was terribly hard work, but there were so many workmen, and the foremen used their whips so unmercifully, that the walls rose very rapidly. Now the architect was a cunning man, and guessed what the chamber was intended to hold. He therefore fitted one stone in such a way that it would slide down and leave a hole just large enough for a man to crawl through; and yet, when you looked at the wall, there was no sign at all by which the secret could be discovered. Nor did the architect think it necessary to mention the secret opening to his majesty, when he showed the chamber to him and told him that it was as strong as he could make it. Rhampsinitus lost no time in moving his treasures into the new treasure-chamber. The key he kept with him night and day, so that at last he could sleep peacefully, knowing that any one who wished to pass the solid, brass-bound door, must first prevail upon him to unlock it. For some time all went well. The king went to the treasury every morning, and found everything in its place. Evidently he had been too clever for the thieves. In the mean time the architect was lying ill in bed, and day by day he grew weaker and weaker; until at length he knew that his end was approaching, and, calling his two sons to his bedside, he told them of the secret way into the treasure-chamber. "I have little of my own to leave you, my sons," he said, "and I have but little influence at court; but by the aid of this secret, which I devised for your sake, you may become rich men, and hold the office of king's treasurers for life." The young men were delighted at his words, and so impatient were they to enjoy their good fortune, that on the very night of their father's funeral they stole away quietly to the place where the t

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immob ilise tubel ess rifle forwe nt pliab lenes s
by Buy C1alis on www.yb48.com 12 Mar '10

12 Mar '10

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