File:Journeys through Bookland - a new and original plan for reading applied to the world's best literature for children (1922) (14593814539).jpg

Identifier: journeysthroughb06sylv (find matches)
Title: Journeys through Bookland : a new and original plan for reading applied to the world's best literature for children
Year: 1922 (1920s)
Authors: Sylvester, Charles Herbert
Subjects: Children's literature
Publisher: Chicago : Bellows-Reeve
Contributing Library: Internet Archive
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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s thoughts of sage-and-onion,these young Cratchits danced about the table, andexalted )Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he(not proud, although his collars nearly choked him)blew the fire, until the slow potatoes bubbling up,knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let out andpeeled. What has ever got your precious father then?said ^Irs. Cratchit. And your brother. Tiny Tim!And )\Iartha warnt as late last Christmas Day byhalf-an-hour! Heres Martha, mother! said a girl, appearingas she spoke. Heres Martha, mother! cried the two youngCratchits. Hurrah! Theres such a goose,Martha! Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how lateyou are! said INIrs. Cratchit, kissing her a do5!;entimes, and taking off her shawl and bonnet for herwith officious zeal. Wed a deal of work to finish up last night, re-plied the girl, and had to clear away this morning,mother! Well! Never mind so long as you are come,said INIrs. Cratchit. Sit ye down before the fire,my dear, and have a warm. Lord bless ye!
Text Appearing After Image:
A Christmas Carol 305 No, no! Theres father eoming, cried the twoyoung Cratchits, who were everywhere at once.Hide, JNIartha, hide! So JNlartha hid herself, and in came httle Bob,the father, witli at least three feet of comforter ex-clusive of the fringe, hanging dowui before him; andhis threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, tolook seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder.Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and hadhis limbs supported by an iron frame! Why, wheres our Martha? cried Bob Cratchit,looking round. Not coming, said )Mrs. Cratchit. Not coming! said Bob, with a sudden declen-sion in his high spirits; for he had been Tims bloodhorse all the way from church, and had come homerampant. Not coming upon Christmas Day! Martha didnt like to see him disappointed, if itwere only in joke; so she came out prematurelyfrom behind the closet door, and ran into his arms,while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim,and bore him off into the wash-house, that he mighthear the pud

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