IN the year 1719 an Englishman whose name was Daniel Defoe wrote a very long story, which he called "The Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe." His story was not designed for children, and therefore it contained a great deal of hard reading. There was much in it, however, that was interesting to young people, and from that day to this, the marvelous tale of Robinson Crusoe has been a favorite with boys as well as men. I have rewritten the story in words easy for every child, and have shortened it by leaving out all the dull parts.??I WISH TO BE A SAILOR?MY name is Robinson Crusoe. I was born in the old city of York, where there is a broad river, with ships coming and going.?When I was a little boy, I spent much of my time looking at the river.?How pleasant was the quiet stream, flowing, always flowing, toward the far-away sea!

The longer stories in this book are called Fairy Stories, because that is the name by which such tales are always known to children; and yet only a very few contain any direct reference to fairies. The most of them have to do with talking animals and with strange incidents and transformations such as have always delighted the childish fancy. They have been drawn from a variety of sources; and liberty has been taken to make such changes in the narratives as seemed most necessary to adapt them to the understanding and needs of the children of our own time and country. ??Free renderings, they may be called, of some of the most popular folktales of foreign lands. The Three Bears, Tom Thumb, Jack and the Beanstalk, and Tom Tit Tot are old English favorites dressed in modern garb; Little Red Riding Hood, Puss in Boots, Princet and the Golden Blackbird, and Drakesbill and his Friends are variants of the well-known French versions by Perrault, Marelles, and Sebillot; Little Tuppen and The Three Goats named Bruse are from Norwegian sources; and the rest are founded upon German originals. In the retelling of these tales care has been taken to avoid whatever might distress the most sensitive child as well as everything that could give a wrong bias to his moral nature or distort his perception of the beautiful and the true.

Cinderella, or "The Little Glass Slipper", is a folk tale embodying a myth-element of unjust oppression/triumphant reward. Thousands of variants are known throughout the world. The title character is a young woman living in unfortunate circumstances, that are suddenly changed to remarkable fortune. The oldest documented version comes from China, and the oldest European version from Italy. The most popular version was first published by Charles Perrault in Histoires ou contes du temps passé in 1697, and later by the Brothers Grimm in their folk tale collection Grimms' Fairy Tales. Although the story's title and main character's name change in different languages, in English-language folklore "Cinderella" is the archetypal name. The word "Cinderella" has, by analogy, come to mean one whose attributes were unrecognized, or one who unexpectedly achieves recognition or success after a period of obscurity and neglect. The still-popular story of "Cinderella" continues to influence popular culture internationally, lending plot elements, allusions, and tropes to a wide variety of media. ONCE there was a gentleman who married, for his second wife, the proudest and most haughty woman that was ever seen. She had, by a former husband, two daughters of her own humour and they were indeed exactly like her in all things. He had likewise, by another wife, a young daughter, but of unparalleled goodness and sweetness of temper, which she took from her mother, who was the best creature in the world. No sooner were the ceremonies of the wedding over, but the stepmother began to shew herself in her colours. She could not bear the good qualities of this pretty girl; and the less, because they made her own daughters appear the more odious. She employed her in the meanest work of the house; she scoured the dishes, tables, &c. and rubbed Madam's chamber, and those of Misses, her daughters; she lay up in a sorry garret, upon a wretched straw-bed, while her sisters lay in fine rooms, with floors all inlaid, upon beds of the very newest fashion, and where they had looking-glasses so large, that they might see themselves at their full length, from head to foot.

THE YEAR 1400 opened with more than usual pea-cefulness in England. Only a few months before, Richard II—weak, wicked, and treacherous—had been dethroned, and Henry IV declared King in his stead. But it was only a seeming peacefulness, lasting but for a little while; for though King Henry proved himself a just and a merciful man—as justice and mercy went with the men of iron of those days—and though he did not care to shed blood needlessly, there were many noble families who had been benefited by King Richard during his reign, and who had lost somewhat of their power and prestige from the co-ming in of the new King. Among these were a number of great lords—the Dukes of Albemarle, Surrey, and Exeter, the Marquis of Dorset, the Earl of Gloucester, and others—who had been degra-ded to their former titles and estates, from which King Richard had lifted them. These and others brewed a secret plot to take King Henry's life, which plot might have succeeded had not one of their own number betrayed them. Their plan had been to fall upon the King and his adherents, and to massacre them during a great tournament, to be held at Oxford. But Henry did not appear at the lists; whereupon, knowing that he had been lodging at Windsor with only a few attendants, the conspirators marched thither against him. In the mean time the King had been warned of the plot, so that, instead of finding him in the royal castle, they discovered through their scouts that he had hurried to London, whence he was even then marching against them at the head of a considerable army. So nothing was left them but flight. Some betook themselves one way, some another; some sought sanctuary here, some there; but one and another, they were all of them caught and killed.

IN the far-off days when Dante lived, those who wrote books wrote them in the Latin tongue. Dante himself wrote the first seven cantos of his great poem in Latin. But like many another poet, he was not satisfied with his first attempt. He flung the seven Latin cantos aside and seemingly forgot all about them, for when he was banished from Florence the poem he had begun was not among his treasures. His wife, however, found the seven cantos and tossed them into a bag among her jewels. Then she also seemed to forget all about them. Five years later a nephew of Dante chanced to find the long-forgotten verses. He at once sent them to his uncle, who was still living in exile. When Dante received the cantos he had written so long ago, he believed that their recovery was a sign from Heaven that he should complete the great poem he had begun. He therefore set to work afresh, but this time he wrote, not in Latin, but in his own beautiful mother-tongue, which was, as you know, Italian. When at length the great poem was finished, Dante named it simply, "The Comedy," and it was not until many years after his de-ath that the title was changed into "The Divine Comedy." A comedy was a tale which might be as sad as tale could be, so only that it ended in gladness.In "The Divine Comedy," then, about which this little book tells, you may expect to find much that is sad, much that is terrible. Yet you may be certain that before the end of the tale you will find in it gladness and joy..

MATILDA'S ears were red and shiny. So were her cheeks. Her hands were red too. This was because Pridmore had washed her. It was not the usual washing, which makes you clean and comfortable, but the "thorough good wash," which makes you burn and smart till you wish you could be like the poor little savages who do not know anything, and run about bare in the sun, and only go into the water when they are hot. Matilda wished she could have been born in a savage tribe instead of at Brixton. "Little savages," she said, "don't have their ears washed thoroughly, and they don't have new dresses that are prickly in the insides round their arms, and cut them round the neck. Do they, Pridmore" ABOUT AUTHOR: Edith Nesbit (married name Edith Bland; 15 August 1858 – 4 May 1924) was an English author and poet; she published her books for children under the name of E. Nesbit. She wrote or collaborated on over 60 books of fiction for children, several of which have been adapted for film and television. She was also a political activist and co-founded the Fabian Society, a socialist organisation later connected to the Labour Party. Edith Nesbit was born in Kennington, Surrey, the daughter of agricultural chemist and schoolmaster John Collis Nesbit. The death of her father when she was four and the continuing ill health of her sister meant that Nesbit had a transitory childhood, her family moving across Europe in search of healthy climates only to return to England for financial reasons. Nesbit therefore spent her childhood attaining an education from whatever sources were available - local grammars, the occasional boarding school but mainly through reading.

THE BIRD ROSE' in its nest of fire, stretched its wings, and flew out into the room. It flew round and round, and round again, and where it passed the air was warm. Then it perched on the fender. The children looked at each other. Then Cyril put out a hand towards the bird. It put its head on one side and looked up at him, as you may have seen a parrot do when it is just going to speak, so that the children were hardly astonished at all when it said, ‘Be careful; I am not nearly cool yet.’They were not astonished, but they were very, very much interested. They looked at the bird, and it was certainly worth looking at. Its feathers were like gold. It was about as large as a bantam, only its beak was not at all bantam-shaped. ‘I believe I know what it is,’ said Robert. ‘I’ve seen a picture.’ He hurried away. A hasty dash and scramble among the papers on father’s study table yielded, as the sum-books say, ‘the desired result’. But when he came back into the room holding out a paper, and crying, ‘I say, look here,’ the others all said ‘Hush!’ and he hushed obediently and instantly, for the bird was speaking. ‘Which of you,’ it was saying, ‘put the egg into the fire?’‘He did,’ said three voices, and three fingers pointed at Robert.The bird bowed; at least it was more like that than anything else.‘I am your grateful debtor,’ it said with a highbred air.The children were all choking with wonder and curiosity—all except Robert. He held the paper in his hand, and he KNEW. He said so. He said—‘I know who you are.’And he opened and displayed a printed paper, at the head of which was a little picture of a bird sitting in a nest of flames. ‘You are the PHOENIX,’ said Robert; and the bird was quite pleased.‘My fame has lived then for two thousand years,’ it said. ‘Allow me to look at my portrait.’ It looked at the page which Robert, kneeling down, spread out in the fender, and said—‘It’s not a flattering likeness... And what are these characters?’ it asked, pointing to the printed part.

There were formerly a King and a Queen, who were so sorry that they had no children, so sorry that it cannot be expressed. They went to all the waters in the world; vows, pilgrimages, all ways were tried and all to no purpose. At last, however, the Queen proved with child, and was brought to bed of a daughter. There was a very fine christening; and the Princess had for her godmothers all the Fairies they could find in the whole kingdom (they found seven), that every one of them might give her a gift, as was the custom of Fairies in those days, and that by this means the Princess might have all the perfections imaginable. After the ceremonies of the christening were over, all the company returned to the King's palace, where was prepared a great feast for the Fairies. There was placed before every one of them a magnificent cover with a case of massive gold, wherein were a spoon, knife and fork, all of pure gold set with diamonds and rubies. But as they were all sitting down at table, they saw come into the hall a very old Fairy whom they had not invited, because it was above fifty years since she had been out of a certain tower, and she was believed to be either dead or inchanted. The King ordered her a cover, but could not furnish her with a case of gold as the others, because they had seven only made for the seven Fairies.

They were not railway children to begin with. I don’t suppose they had ever thought about railways except as a means of getting to Maskelyne and Cook’s, the Pantomime, Zoological Gardens, and Madame Tussaud’s. They were just ordinary suburban children, and they lived with their Father and Mother in an ordinary red-brick-fronted villa, with coloured glass in the front door, a tiled passage that was called a hall, a bathroom with hot and cold water, electric bells, French windows, and a good deal of white paint, and ‘every modern con-venience’, as the house-agents say. There were three of them. Roberta was the eldest. Of course, Mothers never have favourites, but if their Mother HAD had a favourite, it might have been Roberta. Next came Peter, who wished to be an Engineer when he grew up; and the youngest was Phyllis, who meant extremely well. Mother did not spend all her time in paying dull calls to dull ladies, and sitting dully at home waiting for dull ladies to pay calls to her. She was almost always there, ready to play with the children, and read to them, and help them to do their home-lessons. Besides this she used to write stories for them while they were at school, and read them aloud after tea, and she always made up funny pieces of poetry for their birthdays and for other great occasions, such as the christening of the new kittens, or the refurnishing of the doll’s house, or the time when they were getting over the mumps. These three lucky children always had everything they needed: pretty clothes, good fires, a lovely nursery with heaps of toys, and a Mother Goose wallpaper. They had a kind and merry nursemaid, and a dog who was called James, and who was their very own. They also had a Father who was just perfect—never cross, never unjust, and always ready for a game—at least, if at any time he was NOT ready, he always had an excellent reason for it, and explained the reason to the children so interestingly and funnily that they felt sure he couldn’t help himself..

The Trial For Murder, written in 1865, is a short story by Charles Dickens. It is one of Dickens' ghost stories, and is perhaps the best known outside of "A Christmas Carol." Charles John Huffam Dickens pen-name "Boz", was the foremost English novelist of the Victorian era, as well as a vigorous social campaigner. Charles John Huffam Dickens (1812 – 1870) was an English writer and social critic, who also He created some of the world's most memorable fictional characters and is generally regarded as the greatest novelist of the Victorian period. During his life, his works enjoyed unprecedented fame, and by the twentieth century his literary genius was broadly acknowledged by critics and scholars. His novels and short stories continue to be widely popular.Other Books of Dickens: A Tale of Two Cities (1859) Great Expectations (1861) David Copperfield (1850) A Christmas Carol (1843) Oliver Twist (1867) Little Dorrit (1857) The Haunted House (1859) Bleak House (1853) Our Mutual Friend (1865) The Pickwick Papers (1832)

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD from "Brothers Grimm" ONCE upon a time... in the middle of a thick forest stood a small cottage, the home of a pretty little girl known to everyone as Little Red Riding Hood. One day, her Mummy waved her goodbye at the garden gate, saying, "Grandma is ill. Take her this basket of cakes, but be very careful. Keep to the path through the wood and don't ever stop. That way, you will come to no harm." Little Red Riding Hood kissed her mother and ran off. "Don't worry", she said, "I'll run all the way to Grandma's without stopping". Full of good intensions, the little girl made her way through the wood, but she was soon to forget her mother's wise words. "What lovely strawberries! And so red..."

"Mother, a Story at the right time,Is a Looking-glass for the Mind." – Froebel – Endeavored to write, for mothers and dear little children, a few simple stories, embodying some of the truths of Froebel's Mother Play. The Mother Play is such a vast treasure house of Truth, that each one who seeks among its stores may bring to light some gem; and though, perhaps, I have missed its diamonds and rubies, I trust my string of pearls may find acceptance with some mother who is trying to live with her children. I have written my own mottoes, with a few exceptions, that I might emphasize the particular lesson which I endeavor to teach in the story; for every motto in the Mother Play comprehends so much that it is impossible to use the whole for a single subject. From "The Bridge" for instance, which is replete with lessons, I have taken only one,—for the story of the "Little Traveler."

ONCE upon a time there was a very beautiful doll's-house; it was red brick with white windows, and it had real muslin curtains and a front door and a chimney.??IT belonged to two Dolls called Lucinda and Jane; least it belonged to Lucinda, but she never ordered meals.?Jane was the Cook; but she never did any cooking, because the dinner had been bought ready-made, in a box full of shavings. ??THERE were two red lobsters and a ham, a fish, a pudding, and some pears and oranges.?They would not come off the plates, but they were extremely beautiful.?ONE morning Lucinda and Jane had gone out for a drive in the doll's perambulator. There was no one in the nursery, and it was very quiet. Presently there was a little scuffling, scratching noise in a corner near the fire-place, where there was a hole under the skirting-board.?Tom Thumb put out his head for a moment, and then popped it in again.?Tom Thumb was a mouse. ??A MINUTE afterwards, Hunca Munca, his wife, put her head out, too; and when she saw that there was no one in the nursery, she ventured out on the oilcloth under the coal-box.

The Call of the Wild is a novel by American writer Jack London. The plot concerns a previously domesticated and even somewhat pampered dog named Buck, whose primordial instincts return after a series of events finds him serving as a sled dog in the treacherous, frigid Yukon during the days of the 19th century Klondike Gold Rushes.Published in 1903, The Call of the Wild is one of London's most-read books, and it is generally considered one of his best. Because the protagonist is a dog, it is sometimes classified as a juvenile novel, suitable for children, but it is dark in tone and contains numerous scenes of cruelty and violence. London followed the book in 1906 with White Fang, a companion novel with many similar plot elements and themes as The Call of the Wild, although following a mirror image plot in which a wild wolf becomes civilized by a mining expert from San Francisco named Weedon Scott. * * * BUCK did not read the newspapers, or he would have known that trouble was brewing, not alone for himself, but for every tide-water dog, strong of muscle and with warm, long hair, from Puget Sound to San Diego. Because men, groping in the Arctic darkness, had found a yellow metal, and because steamship and transportation companies were booming the find, thousands of men were rushing into the Northland. These men wanted dogs, and the dogs they wanted were heavy dogs, with strong musc-les by which to toil, and furry coats to protect them from the frost. Buck lived at a big house in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley. Judge Miller's place, it was called. It stood back from the road, half hidden among the trees, through which glimpses could be caught of the wide cool veranda that ran around its four sides. The house was approached by gravelled driveways which wound about through widespreading lawns and under the interlacing boughs of tall poplars. At the rear things were on even a more spacious scale than at the front. There were great stables, where a dozen grooms and boys held forth, rows of vineclad servants' cottages, an endless and orderly array of outhouses, long grape arbors, green pastures, orchards, and berry patches. Then there was the pumping plant for the artesian well, and the big cement tank where Judge Miller's boys took their morning plunge and kept cool in the hot afternoon.

In days gone by there was a King who had three sons. When his sons came of age the King called them to him and said, "My dear lads, I want you to get married so that I may see your little ones, my grand-children, before I die." And his sons replied, "Very well, Father, give us your blessing. Who do you want us to marry?" "Each of you must take an arrow, go out into the green meadow and shoot it. Where the arrows fall, there shall your destiny be."So the sons bowed to their father, and each of them took an arrow and went out into the green meadow, where they drew their bows and let fly their arrows. The arrow of the eldest son fell in the courtyard of a nobleman, and the nobleman's daughter picked it up. The arrow of the middle son fell in the yard of a merchant, and the merchant's daughter picked it up. But the arrow of the youngest son, Prince Ivan, flew up and away he knew not where. He walked on and on in search of it, and at last he came to a marsh, where what should he see but a frog sitting on a leaf with the arrow in its mouth. Prince Ivan said to it, "Frog, frog, give me back my arrow." And the frog replied, "Marry me!" "How can I marry a frog?" "Marry me, for it is your destiny."

"White House, June 1st, 1789"? ? ? The president was a little bit nervous for days on end; and he was bemused because of his thoughts which he abstained to confess to himself, but it was requiring that his ideas should become reality for the future of America.He was in conscious of this but he had definitely made a decision; just at that moment, he summoned his staff Andy who he loves very much.? ? ? ?Andy had understood that somethings went wrong; he was being able to see President's nervous situation; they caught each other's eyes; and the President notified that he assigned Andy for a new duty; he said that it is not possible to be unsuccessful in his new duty; and congratulated him.? ? ? ?No longer, Andy was the teacher of the Grey Class; Andy's apprehension had started to increase, and he was trying to attribute meanings to those what had been, and on the other hand he was also carefully hearing the President.The president was telling Andy the Grey Class, its departments, his duties; and was not hiding his excitement; Andy was being the more surprised the more hear him; and also getting excited as well.? ? ? ?Andy was carefully examining the file which had put before him; departments for the Gray Class and their responsible staffs, and also his students and sidekicks were written in the file.? ? ? ?The President had submitted to his staff his program which will create the strategy, will design the strategy of the world, and will transfer America into world emperorship.

SOON, the master stopped discussing a moment, and rang in the footman, and said, "Bury it in the far corner of the garden," and then went on with the discussion, and I trotted after the footman, very happy and grateful, for I knew the puppy was out of its pain now, because it was asleep. We went far down the garden to the farthest end, where the children and the nurse and the puppy and I used to play in the summer in the shade of a great elm, and there the footman dug a hole, and I saw he was going to plant the puppy, and I was glad, because it would grow and come up a fine handsome dog, like Robin Adair, and be a beautiful surprise for the family when they came home; so I tried to help him dig, but my lame leg was no good, being stiff, you know, and you have to have two, or it is no use. When the footman had finished and covered little Robin up, he patted my head, and there were tears in his eyes, and he said: "Poor little DOGGIE, you saved HIS child!" ABOUT AUTHOR: Mark Twain (1835-1910), was an American humorist, satirist, writer, and lecturer. Twain is most noted for his novels Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, which has since been called the Great American Novel, and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. He is also known for his quotations. During his lifetime, Clemens became a friend to presidents, artists, leading industrialists, and European royalty. Clemens enjoyed immense public popularity, and his keen wit and incisive satire earned him praise from both critics and peers. American author William Faulkner called Twain "the father of American literature.”

The clever fox made friends with the crane. The clever fox once had a notion to treat the crane to dinner and went to invite him to her house."Come godfather! Come dear! How I'll entertain you!"The crain went to the dinner party.The clever fox had cooked farina cereal and spread it over a plate.She served it and urged. "Eat, my friend-godfather, I cooked it myself. "

The story takes place just before the Jacobite rising of 1715, with much of Scotland in turmoil. It is narrated by Frank Osbaldistone, the son of an English merchant who travels first to the North of England, and subsequently to the Scottish Highlands, to collect a debt stolen from his father. On the way he encounters the larger-than-life title character, Rob Roy MacGregor.

The legendary Eat That Frog! (more than 1.5 million copies sold worldwide and translated into 42 languages) will change your life. Stop Procrastinating, Get More of the Important Things Done—Today! There just isn't enough time for everything on our to-do list—and there never will be. Successful people don't try to do everything. They learn to focus on the most important tasks and make sure those get done. They eat their frogs. There's an old saying that if the first thing you do each morning is eat a live frog, you'll have the satisfaction of knowing you're done with the worst thing you'll have to do all day. For Tracy, eating a frog is a metaphor for tackling your most challenging task—but also the one that can have the greatest positive impact on your life. Eat That Frog! – Snapshots shows you how to organize each day so you can zero in on these critical tasks and accomplish them efficiently and effectively. In this fully redesigned and illustrative edition, Tracy explains how you can use technology to remind yourself of what is most important and protect yourself from what is least important. But one thing remains unchanged: Brian Tracy cuts to the core of what is vital to effective time management: decision, discipline, and determination. This life-changing book will ensure that you get more of your important tasks done—today!

A bundle of books from The Hounds of Annwn - Books 1-5----To Carry the Horn –Book 1 of The Hounds of AnnwnNEW JOB, NEW FAMILY, AND IN TWO WEEKS THE END OF A WORLD HE’S JUST DISCOVERED, IF HE CAN’T RISE TO THE CHALLENGE.George Talbot Traherne is just doing his job on a fine autumn morning, keeping the hounds together for the huntsman of the Rowanton Hunt in Virginia along the Blue Ridge Mountain. Doesn’t pay to get distracted by a white stag in unfamiliar territory, though. Next thing you know, you might find yourself… somewhere else.The land is the same but not the people. Their huntsman has just been murdered, and George is tapped for the job. It’s an emergency — the Wild Hunt is only two weeks away, and if it doesn’t happen on schedule, the antlered god Cernunnos will take the realm from its ruler Gwyn ap Nudd and find someone who can mete out justice with the Hounds of Hell in his place.----The Ways of Winter – Book 2 of The Hounds of AnnwnTRAPPED BEHIND ENEMY LINES, CAN HE FIND THE STRENGTH TO DEFEND ALL THAT HE VALUES MOST, OR EVEN JUST TO SURVIVE?It’s the dead of winter and George Talbot Traherne, the new human huntsman for the Wild Hunt, is in trouble. The damage in Gwyn ap Nudd’s domain reveals the deadly powers of a dangerous foe who has mastered an unstoppable weapon and threatens the fae dominions in both the new and the old worlds.----King of the May – Book 3 of The Hounds of AnnwnMORE VALUABLE AS A WEAPON THAN A KINGMAKER, HE MUST MAKE HIS OWN CHOICES TO SECURE THE FUTURE.George Talbot Traherne, the human huntsman for the Wild Hunt, had hoped to settle into a quiet life with his new family, but it was not to be. Gwyn ap Nudd, Prince of Annwn, has plans to secure his domain in the new world from the overbearing interference of his father Lludd, the King of Britain.----Bound into the Blood – Book 4 of The Hounds of AnnwnDISTURBING THE FAMILY SECRETS COULD BRING RUIN TO EVERYTHING HE’S WORKED SO HARD TO BUILD.George Talbot Traherne, the human huntsman for the Wild Hunt, is preparing for the birth of his child by exploring the family papers about his parents and their deaths. When his improved relationship with his patron, the antlered god Cernunnos, is jeopardized by an unexpected opposition, he finds he must choose between loyalty to family and loyalty to a god.----Tales of Annwn – A Story Collection from The Hounds of AnnwnTHE CALL: A very young Rhian discovers her beast-sense and rushes to the rescue of an errant hound.UNDER THE BOUGH: Angharad hasn’t lived with anyone for hundreds of years, but now she is ready to tie the knot with George Talbot Traherne, the human who has entered the fae otherworld to serve as huntsman for the Wild Hunt. As soon as she can make up her mind, anyway.NIGHT HUNT: George Talbot Traherne goes night hunting for fox in Virginia and thinks about the choices he has made.CARIAD: Benitoe and Luhedoc are off to fetch horses for the Golden Cockerel Inn in Edgewood. Luhedoc needs to relearn an important lesson about confidence.THE EMPTY HILLS: George Talbot Traherne shows a bit of the human world to family and friends, hoping to share some of the sense of wonder he discovered when he encountered the fae otherworld.