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- Author: John Hartley
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- ISBN-10: 1508724040
- ISBN-13: 9781508724049
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 1 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English
- SAVE -10% with code: EXTRA
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Description
The last strain of the grand old Christmas hymn had just been warbled forth from the throats and hearts of a number of happy folks, who were seated around the blazing log one Christmas eve; and on the face of each one of that family circle the cheering light revealed the look of happiness; the young-happy in the present, and indulging in hopeful anticipations for the future; the old, -equally happy as the young, and revelling in many a darling memory of the past. "Come, Uncle John!" said a bright-eyed, flaxen-haired beauty, over whose head not more than ten Christmas days had passed, -"Come, uncle, do tell us a story; you know that we always expect one from you." "Well, my pretty little niece," he replied, "I fear that I have exhausted all my store of ghosts and hobgoblins, and if I tell you a story now, it must be from the cold, stern world of fact, which, I fear, will be less interesting to you than the romantic fictions I have rehearsed on former occasions
EXTRA 10 % discount with code: EXTRA
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- Author: John Hartley
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- ISBN-10: 1508724040
- ISBN-13: 9781508724049
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 1 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English English
The last strain of the grand old Christmas hymn had just been warbled forth from the throats and hearts of a number of happy folks, who were seated around the blazing log one Christmas eve; and on the face of each one of that family circle the cheering light revealed the look of happiness; the young-happy in the present, and indulging in hopeful anticipations for the future; the old, -equally happy as the young, and revelling in many a darling memory of the past. "Come, Uncle John!" said a bright-eyed, flaxen-haired beauty, over whose head not more than ten Christmas days had passed, -"Come, uncle, do tell us a story; you know that we always expect one from you." "Well, my pretty little niece," he replied, "I fear that I have exhausted all my store of ghosts and hobgoblins, and if I tell you a story now, it must be from the cold, stern world of fact, which, I fear, will be less interesting to you than the romantic fictions I have rehearsed on former occasions
Reviews