I'd like to be a teacher, and have a clever brain,
Calling out, "Attention, please!" and "Must I speak in vain?"
I'd be quite strict with boys and girls whose minds I had to train,
And all the books and maps and things I'd carefully explain;
I'd make then learn the dates of kings, and all the capes of Spain;
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One green light squinting over Kidd's Creek, which is near the mouth of the pirate river, marked where the brig, the JOLLY ROGER, lay, low in the water; a rakish-looking craft foul to the hull, every beam in her detestable, like ground strewn with mangled feathers. She was the cannibal of the seas, and scarce needed that watchful eye, for she floated immune in the horror of her name.
She was wrapped in the blanket of night, through which no sound from her could have reached the shore. There was little sound, and none agreeable save the whir of the ship's sewing machine at which Smee sat, ever industrious and obliging, the essence of the commonplace, pathetic Smee. I know not why he was so infinitely pathetic, unless it were because he was so pathetically unaware of it; but even strong men had to turn hastily from looking at him, and more than once on summer evenings he had touched the fount of Hook's tears and made it flow. Of this, as of almost everything else, Smee was quite unconscious.
Johnny Town-mouse was born in a cupboard. Timmy Willie was born in a garden. Timmy Willie was a little country mouse who went to town by mistake in a hamper. The gardener sent vegetables to town once a week by carrier; he packed them in a big hamper.
The gardener left the hamper by the garden gate, so that the carrier could pick it up when he passed. Timmy Willie crept in through a hole in the wicker-work, and after eating some peas - Timmy Willie fell fast asleep.
He awoke in a fright, while the hamper was being lifted into the carrier's cart. Then there was a jolting, and a clattering of horse's feet; other packages were thrown in; for miles and miles - jolt - jolt - jolt! and Timmy Willie trembled amongst the jumbled up vegetables.
Long ago in a faraway kingdom, three sisters were outside in the courtyard talking, imagining what they would do if they were married to Tsar Saltan. One said that she would prepare a great feast for the entire world. The next said that she would weave linen for the entire world. The third said that she would give the tsar "an heir, handsome and brave beyond compare."
It so happened that the tsar, who was just outside the fence, overheard the conversation. When he heard the words of the last maiden, he fell in love and asked her to be his wife. They were married that very same night and conceived a son soon after. The other sisters were given jobs as a cook and a weaver.
There was once a man who had one son, and he was so lazy that he would not work at all. The father apprenticed him to a tailor, but the lad went to sleep between the stitches. He apprenticed him to a cobbler and the lad only sat and yawned instead of driving pegs. What to do with him the man did not know.
"Come," said the father one day, "we will go out into the wide world. It may be that somewhere or other we will find a master who can make you work."
The lad was very good-natured. "Very well," said he, "I am willing"; and he arose and stretched himself and yawned, and then he was ready to set out.
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The more quickly this horror is disposed of the better. The first to emerge from his tree was Curly. He rose out of it into the arms of Cecco, who flung him to Smee, who flung him to Starkey, who flung him to Bill Jukes, who flung him to Noodler, and so he was tossed from one to another till he fell at the feet of the black pirate. All the boys were plucked from their trees in this ruthless manner; and several of them were in the air at a time, like bales of goods flung from hand to hand.
A different treatment was accorded to Wendy, who came last. With ironical politeness Hook raised his hat to her, and, offering her his arm, escorted her to the spot where the others were being gagged. He did it with such an air, he was so frightfully[imposingly distinguished, that she was too fascinated to cry out. She was only a little girl.
Marie awoke to the sound of a sudden shatter. It was near sunrise and she was still dazed from her night’s dream.
“Who’s there? If you don’t come out, I’ll have to get my guards to come and slaughter you,” she said, but was met with only silence.
She was uncertain as to what it was but looked around, afraid to find what awaited her. She turned around and to her relief, found only her mirror lying beside her unharmed. However, she didn’t go back to sleep and continued to gaze into the mirror admiring her reflection in the dim light.
When the sun had fully risen, she grabbed her mirror and headed down the winding staircase to the breakfast hall of her mansion which smelled like sausages, bacon, and all sorts of breakfast foods. Her father, Blaine Richmount was a budding investment guru and could therefore afford the finest things for his vain and lazy daughter.
Once upon a time, in a magical world on the edge of imagination, was a princess with a heart as cold and empty as ice. She had the most electrifying clear blue eyes, and the most silver hair that any girl in the kingdoms would have died for. She had anything anyone could ever wish for, but she was still unsatisfied. She had all the men and princes throughout all the kingdoms wishing to marry her, and yet she had not batted an eyelash. She had the most enchanting, most perfect life, and still she felt nothing. She was immune to any love in the world, and cared for nothing but one thing: She wanted to live forever.
With immortality, she would be able to explore all the knowledge and magic in the world. She would be a legend to last for eternity. She explored all the lands, books and scrolls, in order for just a tiny hint at the secret of immortality, and on one fateful day, she discovered the Earth Spirit. The Earth Spirit was said to grant any wish to the person who could find her, and the princess knew that she had to find the Spirit to get her wish.
Stave 1: Marley’s Ghost
Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ’Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to.
Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
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The pirate attack had been a complete surprise: a sure proof that the unscrupulous Hook had conducted it improperly, for to surprise redskins fairly is beyond the wit of the white man.
By all the unwritten laws of savage warfare it is always the redskin who attacks, and with the wiliness of his race he does it just before the dawn, at which time he knows the courage of the whites to be at its lowest ebb. The white men have in the meantime made a rude stockade on the summit of yonder undulating ground, at the foot of which a stream runs, for it is destruction to be too far from water.