Little Women. Луиза Мэй Олкотт

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ tongues till the holy rite was over. Then the

      eager spectators gathered round the count, demanding

      an explanation.

      »Gladly would I give it if I could, but I only

      know that it was the whim of my timid Viola, and I

      yielded to it. Now, my children, let the play end.

      Unmask and receive my blessing.«

      But neither bent the knee, for the young bridegroom

      replied in a tone that startled all listeners

      as the mask fell, disclosing the noble face of Ferdinand

      Devereux, the artist lover, and leaning on the

      breast where now flashed the star of an English earl

      was the lovely Viola, radiant with joy and beauty.

      »My lord, you scornfully bade me claim your

      daughter when I could boast as high a name and vast a

      fortune as the Count Antonio. I can do more, for even

      your ambitious soul cannot refuse the Earl of Devereux

      and De Vere, when he gives his ancient name and boundless boundless

      wealth in return for the beloved hand of this fair lady,

      now my wife.«

      The count stood like one changed to stone, and

      turning to the bewildered crowd, Ferdinand added, with

      a gay smile of triumph, »To you, my gallant friends, I

      can only wish that your wooing may prosper as mine has

      done, and that you may all win as fair a bride as I have

      by this masked marriage.«

      S. PICKWICK

      Why is the P. C. like the Tower of Babel?

      It is full of unruly members.

      THE HISTORY OF A SQUASH

      Once upon a time a farmer planted a little seed

      in his garden, and after a while it sprouted and became

      a vine and bore many squashes. One day in October,

      when they were ripe, he picked one and took it

      to market. A grocerman bought and put it in his shop.

      That same morning, a little girl in a brown hat

      and blue dress, with a round face and snub nose, went

      and bought it for her mother. She lugged it home, cut

      it up, and boiled it in the big pot, mashed some of it

      with salt and butter, for dinner. And to the rest she added

      a pint of milk, two eggs, four spoons of sugar, nutmeg,

      and some crackers, put it in a deep dish, and baked it

      till it was brown and nice, and next day it was eaten

      by a family named March.

      T. TUPMAN

      Mr. Pickwick, Sir:—

      I address you upon the subject of sin the sinner

      I mean is a man named Winkle who makes trouble in his

      club by laughing and sometimes won’t write his piece in

      this fine paper I hope you will pardon his badness and

      let him send a French fable because he can’t write out

      of his head as he has so many lessons to do and no brains

      in future I will try to take time by the fetlock and

      prepare some work which will be all commy la fo that

      means all right I am in haste as it is nearly school

      time.

      Yours respectably,

      N. WINKLE

      [The above is a manly and handsome acknowledgment of past misdemeanors. If our young friend studied punctuation, it would be well.]

      A SAD ACCIDENT

      On Friday last, we were startled by a violent shock

      in our basement, followed by cries of distress.

      On rushing in a body to the cellar, we discovered our beloved

      President prostrate upon the floor, having tripped and

      fallen while getting wood for domestic purposes. A perfect

      scene of ruin met our eyes, for in his fall Mr. Pickwick

      had plunged his head and shoulders into a tub of water,

      upset a keg of soft soap upon his manly form, and torn

      his garments badly. On being removed from this perilous

      situation, it was discovered that he had suffered

      no injury but several bruises, and we are happy to add,

      is now doing well.

      ED.

      THE PUBLIC BEREAVEMENT

      It is our painful duty to record the sudden and

      mysterious disappearance of our cherished friend, Mrs.

      Snowball Pat Paw. This lovely and beloved cat was the

      pet of a large circle of warm and admiring friends; for

      her beauty attracted all eyes, her graces and virtues

      endeared her to all hearts, and her loss is deeply felt

      by the whole community.

      When last seen, she was sitting at the gate, watching

      the butcher’s cart, and it is feared that some villain,

      tempted by her charms, basely stole her. Weeks have passed,

      but no trace of her has been discovered, СКАЧАТЬ