| | 63 | Author: | McAfee, Cleland Boyd | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Greatest English Classic  | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | THERE are three great Book-religions—Judaism, Christianity, and Mohammedanism.
Other religions have their sacred writings,
but they do not hold them in the same regard as
do these three. Buddhism and Confucianism
count their books rather records of their faith
than rules for it, history rather than authoritative
sources of belief. The three great Book-religions yield a measure of authority to their
sacred books which would be utterly foreign to
the thought of other faiths. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 66 | Author: | Montgomery, L. M. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Anne's House of Dreams | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | "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 like a morning sky. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 67 | Author: | Nation, Carry A. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Use and Need of the Life of Carry A. Nation | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | I was born in Garrard County, Kentucky. My
father's farm was on Dick's River, where the cliffs rose to hundreds of
feet, with great ledges of rocks, where under which I used to sit. There
were many large rocks scattered around, some as much as fifteen feet
across, with holes that held water, where my father salted his stock,
and I, a little toddler, used to follow him. On the side of the house
next to the cliffs was what we called the "Long House," where the negro
women would spin and weave. There were wheels, little and big, and a
loom or two, and swifts and reels, and winders, and everything for
making linen for the summer, and woolen cloth for the winter, both
linsey and jeans. The flax was raised on the place, and so were the
sheep. When a child 5 years old, I used to bother the other spinners. I
was so anxious to learn to spin. My father had a small wheel made for me
by a wright in the neighborhood. I was very jealous of my wheel, and
would spin on it for hours. The colored women were always indulgent to
me, and made the proper sized rolls, so I could spin them. I would
double the yarn, and then twist it, and knit it into suspenders, which
was a great source of pride to my father, who would display my work to
visitors on every occasion. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 71 | Author: | Peattie, Elia Wilkinson, 1862-1935 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Shape of Fear, and other ghostly tales | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | TIM O'CONNOR—who was descended from the O'Conors with one N—started
life as a poet and an enthusiast. His mother had designed him for the
priesthood, and at the age of fifteen, most of his verses had an
ecclesiastical tinge, but, somehow or other, he got into the newspaper
business instead, and became a pessimistic gentleman, with a literary
style of great beauty and an income of modest proportions. He fell in
with men who talked of art for art's sake,—though what right they had
to speak of art at all nobody knew,—and little by little his view of
life and love became more or less profane. He met a woman who sucked his
heart's blood, and he knew it and made no
protest; nay, to the great amusement of the fellows who talked of art
for art's sake, he went the length of marrying her. He could not in
decency explain that he had the traditions of fine gentlemen behind him
and so had to do as he did, because his friends might not have
understood. He laughed at the days when he had thought of the
priesthood, blushed when he ran across any of those tender and exquisite
old verses he had written in his youth, and became addicted to absinthe
and other less peculiar drinks, and to gaming a little to escape a
madness of ennui. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 73 | Author: | Porter, Eleanor H. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Mary Marie | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Father calls me Mary. Mother calls me Marie. Everybody else
calls me Mary Marie. The rest of my name is Anderson. I'm thirteen
years old, and I'm a cross-current and a contradiction. That is, Sarah
says I'm that. (Sarah is my old nurse.) She says she read it once — that
the children of unlikes were always a cross-current and a contradiction.
And my father and mother are unlikes, and I'm the children. That is, I'm
the child. I'm all there is. And now I'm going to be a bigger
cross-current and contradiction than ever, for I'm going to live half the
time with Mother and the other half with Father. Mother will go to
Boston to live, and Father will stay here — a divorce, you know. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 74 | Author: | Porter, Eleanor H. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Pollyanna Grows Up | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | DELLA WETHERBY tripped up the somewhat imposing steps of her sister's
Commonwealth Avenue home and pressed an energetic finger against the
electric-bell button. From the tip of her wingtrimmed hat to the toe of
her low-heeled shoe she radiated health, capability, and alert decision.
Even her voice, as she greeted the maid that opened the door, vibrated
with the joy of living. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 75 | Author: | Pyle, Howard | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Men of Iron | | | | Published: | 1998 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | MYLES FALWORTH was but eight years of age at
that time, and it was only afterwards, and when he
grew old enough to know more of the ins and outs
of the matter, that he could remember by bits and
pieces the things that afterwards happened; how
one evening a knight came clattering into the
court-yard upon a horse, red-nostrilled and
smeared with the sweat and foam of a desperate
ride—Sir John Dale, a dear friend of the blind
Lord. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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