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Trajectory presents classics of world literature with 21st century features! Our original-text editions include the following visual enhancements to foster a deeper understanding of the work: Word Clouds at the start of each chapter highlight important words. Word, sentence, paragraph counts, and reading time help readers and teachers determine chapter complexity. Co-occurrence graphs depict character-to-character interactions as well character to place interactions. Sentiment indexes identify positive and negative trends in mood within each chapter. Frequency graphs help display the impact this book has had on popular culture since its original date of publication. Use Trajectory analytics to deepen comprehension, to provide a focus for discussions and writing assignments, and to engage new readers with some of the greatest stories ever told."Six Little Bunkers at Cousin Tom's" by Laura Lee Hope is part of the Six Little Bunkers series. The Six Little Bunkers series is about the adventures of the Bunker Family when they had no access to technology.
"There oft are heard the notes of infant woe,
The short thick sob, loud scream, and shriller squall-
How can you, mothers, vex your infants so?"-POPE
"D'abord, madame, c'est impossible!-Madame ne descendra pas ici?" said Fran?ois, the footman of Madame de Fleury, with a half expostulatory, half indignant look, as he let down the step of her carriage at the entrance of a dirty passage, that led to one of the most miserable-looking houses in Paris.
"But what can be the cause of the cries which I hear in this house?" said Madame de Fleury.
"'Tis only some child who is crying," replied Fran?ois; and he would have put up the step, but his lady was not satisfied.
"'Tis nothing in the world," continued he, with a look of appeal to the coachman, "it can be nothing, but some children who are locked up there above. The mother, the workwoman my lady wants, is not at home: that's certain."
"I must know the cause of these cries; I must see these children" said Madame de Fleury, getting out of her carriage.
Fran?ois held his arm for his lady as she got out.
"Bon!" cried he, with an air of vexation. "Si madame la vent absolument, à la bonne heure!-Mais madame sera abimée. Madame verra que j'ai raison. Madame ne montera jamais ce vilain escalier. D'ailleurs c'est au cinquième. Mais, madame, c'est impossible."
Notwithstanding the impossibility, Madame de Fleury proceeded; and bidding her talkative footman wait in the entry, made her way up the dark, dirty, broken staircase, the sound of the cries increasing every instant, till, as she reached the fifth storey, she heard the shrieks of one in violent pain. She hastened to the door of the room from which the cries proceeded; the door was fastened, and the noise was so great that, though she knocked as loud as she was able, she could not immediately make herself heard. At last the voice of a child from within answered, "The door is locked-mamma has the key in her pocket, and won't be home till night; and here's Victoire has tumbled from the top of the big press, and it is she that is shrieking so."
Madame de Fleury ran down the stairs which she had ascended with so much difficulty, called to her footman, who was waiting in the entry, despatched him for a surgeon, and then she returned to obtain from some people who lodged in the house assistance to force open the door of the room in which the children were confined.
On the next floor there was a smith at work, filing so earnestly that he did not hear the screams of the children. When his door was pushed open, and the bright vision of Madame de Fleury appeared to him, his astonishment was so great that he seemed incapable of comprehending what she said. In a strong provincial accent he repeated, "Plait-il?" and stood aghast till she had explained herself three times; then suddenly exclaiming, "Ah! c'est ?a;"-he collected his tools precipitately, and followed to obey her orders. The door of the room was at last forced half open, for a press that had been overturned prevented its opening entirely. The horrible smells that issued did not overcome Madame de Fleury's humanity: she squeezed her way into the room, and behind the fallen press saw three little children: the youngest, almost an infant, ceased roaring, and ran to a corner; the eldest, a boy of about eight years old, whose face and clothes were covered with blood, held on his knee a girl younger than himself, whom he was trying to pacify, but who struggled most violently and screamed incessantly, regardless of Madame de Fleury, to whose questions she made no answer.
"Where are you hurt, my dear?" repeated Madame de Fleury in a soothing voice. "Only tell me where you feel pain?"
The boy, showing his sister's arm, said, in a surly tone-"It is this that is hurt-but it was not I did it."
"It was, it was!" cried the girl as loud as she could vociferate: "it was Maurice threw me down from the top of the press."
"No-it was you that were pushing me, Victoire, and you fell backwards.-Have done screeching, and show your arm to the lady."
"I can't," said the girl.
"She won't," said the boy.
"She cannot," said Madame de Fleury, kneeling down to examine it. "She cannot move it; I am afraid that it is broken."
"Don't touch it! don't touch it!" cried the girl, screaming more violently.
"Ma'am, she screams that way for nothing often," said the boy. "Her arm is no more broke than mine, I'm sure; she'll move it well enough when she's not cross."
"I am afraid," said Madame de Fleury, "that her arm is broken."
"Is it indeed?" said the boy, with a look of terror.
"Oh! don't touch it-you'll kill me; you are killing me," screamed the poor girl, whilst Madame de Fleury with the greatest care endeavoured to join the bones in their proper place, and resolved to hold the arm till the arrival of the surgeon.
From the feminine appearance of this lady, no stranger would have expected such resolution; but with all the natural sensibility and graceful delicacy of her sex, she had none of that weakness or affection which incapacitates from being useful in real distress. In most sudden accidents, and in all domestic misfortunes, female resolution and presence of mind are indispensably requisite: safety, health, and life often depend upon the fortitude of women. Happy they who, like Madame de Fleury, possess strength of mind united with the utmost gentleness of manner and tenderness of disposition!
Soothed by this lady's sweet voice, the child's rage subsided; and no longer struggling, the poor little girl sat quietly on her lap, sometimes writhing and moaning with pain.
The surgeon at length arrived: her arm was set: and he said "that she had probably been saved much future pain by Madame de Fleury's presence of mind."
"Sir,-will it soon be well?" said Maurice to the surgeon.
"Oh yes, very soon, I dare say," said the little girl. "To-morrow, perhaps; for now that it is tied up it does not hurt me to signify-and after all, I do believe, Maurice, it was not you threw me down."
As she spoke, she held up her face to kiss her brother.-"That is right," said Madame de Fleury; "there is a good sister."
The little girl put out her lips, offering a second kiss, but the boy turned hastily away to rub the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.
"I am not cross now: am I, Maurice?"
"No, Victoire; I was cross myself when I said that."
As Victoire was going to speak again, the surgeon imposed silence, observing that she must be put to bed, and should be kept quiet. Madame de Fleury laid her upon the bed, as soon as Maurice had cleared it of the things with which it was covered; and as they were spreading the ragged blanket over the little girl, she whispered a request to Madame de Fleury that she would "stay till her mamma came home, to beg Maurice off from being whipped, if mamma should be angry."
Touched by this instance of goodness, and compassionating the desolate condition of these children, Madame de Fleury complied with Victoire's request; resolving to remonstrate with their mother for leaving them locked up in this manner. They did not know to what part of the town their mother was gone; they could tell only "that she was to go to a great many different places to carry back work, and to bring home more, and that she expected to be in by five." It was now half after four.
Whilst Madame de Fleury waited, she asked the boy to give her a full account of the manner in which the accident had happened.
"Why, ma'am," said Maurice, twisting and untwisting a ragged handkerchief as he spoke, "the first beginning of all the mischief was, we had nothing to do, so we went to the ashes to make dirt pies; but Babet would go so close that she burnt her petticoat, and threw about all our ashes, and plagued us, and we whipped her. But all would not do, she would not be quiet; so to get out of her reach, we climbed up by this chair on the table to the top of the press, and there we were well enough for a little while, till somehow we began to quarrel about the old scissors, and we struggled hard for them till I got this cut."
Here he unwound the handkerchief, and for the first time showed the wound, which he had never mentioned before.
"Then," continued he, "when I got the cut, I shoved Victoire, and she pushed at me again, and I was keeping her off, and her foot slipped, and down she fell, and caught by the press-door, and pulled it and me after her, and that's all I know."
"It is well that you were not both killed," said Madame de Fleury. "Are you often left locked up in this manner by yourselves, and without anything to do?"
"Yes, always, when mamma is abroad, except sometimes we are let out upon the stairs or in the street; but mamma says we get into mischief there."
This dialogue was interrupted by the return of the mother. She came upstairs slowly, much fatigued, and with a heavy bundle under her arm.
"How now! Maurice, how comes my door open? What's all this?" cried she, in an angry voice; but seeing a lady sitting upon her child's bed, she stopped short in great astonishment. Madame de Fleury related what had happened, and averted her anger from Maurice by gently expostulating upon the hardship and hazard of leaving her young children in this manner during so many hours of the day.
"Why, my lady," replied the poor woman, wiping her forehead, "every hard-working woman in Paris does the same with her children; and what can I do else? I must earn bread for these helpless ones, and to do that I must be out backwards and forwards, and to the furthest parts of the town, often from morning till night, with those that employ me; and I cannot afford to send the children to school, or to keep any kind of a servant to look after them; and when I'm away, if I let them run about these stairs and entries, or go into the sheets, they do get a little exercise and air, to be sure, such as it is on which account I do let them out sometimes; but then a deal of mischief comes of that, too: they learn all kinds of wickedness, and would grow up to be no better than pickpockets, if they were let often to consort with the little vagabonds they find in the streets. So what to do better for them I don't know."
The poor mother sat down upon the fallen press, looked at Victoire, and wept bitterly. Madame de Fleury was struck with compassion; but she did not satisfy her feelings merely by words or comfort or by the easy donation of some money-she resolved to do something more, and something better.
This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book. ++++ The below data was compiled from various identification fields in the bibliographic record of this title. This data is provided as an additional tool in helping to ensure edition identification: ++++ <title> The Parent's Assistant, Or Stories For Children <author> Maria Edgeworth <publisher> Hurd and Houghton, 1868 <subjects> Fiction; Classics; Fiction \/ Classics
The Bracelets / Or, Amiability and Industry Rewarded by Maria Edgeworth
Excerpt: "Indeed, in all sciences the grand difficulty has been to ascertain facts—a difficulty which, in the science of education, peculiar circumstances conspire to increase. Here the objects of every experiment are so interesting that we cannot hold our minds indifferent to the result. Nor is it to be expected that many registers of experiments, successful and unsuccessful, should be kept, much less should be published, when we consider that the combined powers of affection and vanity, of partiality to his child and to his theory, will act upon the mind of a parent, in opposition to the abstract love of justice, and the general desire to increase the wisdom and happiness of mankind. Notwithstanding these difficulties, an attempt to keep such a register has actually been made. The design has from time to time been pursued. Though much has not been collected, every circumstance and conversation that have been preserved are faithfully and accurately related, and these notes have been of great advantage to the writer of the following stories."
Trajectory presents classics of world literature with 21st century features! Our original-text editions include the following visual enhancements to foster a deeper understanding of the work: Word Clouds at the start of each chapter highlight important words. Word, sentence, paragraph counts, and reading time help readers and teachers determine chapter complexity. Co-occurrence graphs depict character-to-character interactions as well character to place interactions. Sentiment indexes identify positive and negative trends in mood within each chapter. Frequency graphs help display the impact this book has had on popular culture since its original date of publication. Use Trajectory analytics to deepen comprehension, to provide a focus for discussions and writing assignments, and to engage new readers with some of the greatest stories ever told."Six Little Bunkers at Cousin Tom's" by Laura Lee Hope is part of the Six Little Bunkers series. The Six Little Bunkers series is about the adventures of the Bunker Family when they had no access to technology.
The esteemed contemporary of Jane Austen and Sir Walter Scott, Maria Edgeworth was a pioneer writer of children's literature and a significant figure in the evolution of the novel in Europe, whose works depict advanced views on the rights of women, politics, education and her beloved Ireland. This comprehensive eBook presents the complete novels of Maria Edgeworth, with numerous illustrations, rare texts appearing for the first time in digital print, informative introductions and the usual Delphi bonus material. (Version 1)Beautifully illustrated with images relating to Edgeworth's life and worksConcise introductions to the novels and other textsALL 9 novels, with individual contents tablesImages of how the books were first printed, giving your eReader a taste of the original textsExcellent formatting of the textsMany short story collections – including the classic children's collections EARLY LESSONS and FRANK, appearing here for the first time in digital printSpecial chronological and alphabetical contents tables for the short storiesAlso includes the rare short story collection THE MOST UNFORTUNATE DAY OF MY LIFE AND OTHER STORIES, which was published posthumouslyEasily locate the short stories you want to readEdgeworth's plays and a selection of non-fictionIncludes Edgeworth's letters - spend hours exploring the author's personal correspondence, with detailed table of contentsFeatures two biographies, including a selection of her father's memoirs - explore Edgeworth's literary lifeScholarly ordering of texts into chronological order and literary genres Please visit delphiclassics.com to browse through our range of exciting titlesCONTENTS: The NovelsCASTLE RACKRENTBELINDATHE MODERN GRISELDALEONORAPATRONAGEHARRINGTONORMONDHELENORLANDINO The Shorter FictionTHE PARENT'S ASSISTANTHARRY AND LUCY: BEING THE FIRST PART OF EARLY LESSONSMORAL TALESPOPULAR TALESTALES OF FASHIONABLE LIFEFRANK: A SEQUEL OF EARLY LESSONSGARRY OWEN; OR, THE SNOW-WOMAN, AND OTHER STORIESTHE LITTLE DOG TRUSTY; THE ORANGE MAN; AND THE CHERRY ORCHARDTHE MOST UNFORTUNATE DAY OF MY LIFE AND OTHER STORIES The Short StoriesLIST OF SHORT STORIES IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDERLIST OF SHORT STORIES IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER The PlaysCOMIC DRAMAS IN THREE ACTS The LettersTHE LIFE AND LETTERS OF MARIA EDGEWORTH The Non-FictionPRACTICAL EDUCATIONESSAY ON IRISH BULLSAN ESSAY ON THE NOBLE SCIENCE OF SELF-JUSTIFICATION The BiographiesRICHARD LOVELL EDGEWORTH: A SELECTION FROM HIS MEMOIRSMARIA EDGEWORTH by Helen Zimmern Please visit delphiclassics.com to browse through our range of exciting titles
Natalie used to think she could melt Connor’s icy heart, but she was sorely mistaken. When at last she decided to leave, she discovered that she was pregnant. Even so, she chose to quietly leave his world, prompting Connor to mobilize all of his resources and expand his business to a global scale—all in a bid to find her. But there was no trace of Natalie. Connor slowly spiraled into madness, turning the city upside down and leaving chaos in his wake. Natalie finally surfaced years later, with wealth and power of her own, only to find herself entangled with Connor once again.
Corinne devoted three years of her life to her boyfriend, only for it to all go to waste. He saw her as nothing more than a country bumpkin and left her at the altar to be with his true love. After getting jilted, Corinne reclaimed her identity as the granddaughter of the town’s richest man, inherited a billion-dollar fortune, and ultimately rose to the top. But her success attracted the envy of others, and people constantly tried to bring her down. As she dealt with these troublemakers one by one, Mr. Hopkins, notorious for his ruthlessness, stood by and cheered her on. “Way to go, honey!”
There was only one man in Raegan's heart, and it was Mitchel. In the second year of her marriage to him, she got pregnant. Raegan's joy knew no bounds. But before she could break the news to her husband, he served her divorce papers because he wanted to marry his first love. After an accident, Raegan lay in the pool of her own blood and called out to Mitchel for help. Unfortunately, he left with his first love in his arms. Raegan escaped death by the whiskers. Afterward, she decided to get her life back on track. Her name was everywhere years later. Mitchel became very uncomfortable. For some reason, he began to miss her. His heart ached when he saw her all smiles with another man. He crashed her wedding and fell to his knees while she was at the altar. With bloodshot eyes, he queried, "I thought you said your love for me is unbreakable? How come you are getting married to someone else? Come back to me!"
After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"
For ten years, Daniela showered her ex-husband with unwavering devotion, only to discover she was just his biggest joke. Feeling humiliated yet determined, she finally divorced him. Three months later, Daniela returned in grand style. She was now the hidden CEO of a leading brand, a sought-after designer, and a wealthy mining mogul—her success unveiled at her triumphant comeback. Her ex-husband’s entire family rushed over, desperate to beg for forgiveness and plead for another chance. Yet Daniela, now cherished by the famed Mr. Phillips, regarded them with icy disdain. "I’m out of your league."
Belinda thought after divorce, they would part ways for good - he could live his life on his own terms, while she could indulge in the rest of hers. However, fate had other plans in store. "My darling, I was wrong. Would you please come back to me?" The man, whom she once loved deeply, lowered his once proud head humbly. "I beg you to return to me." Belinda coldly pushed away the bouquet of flowers he had offered her and coolly replied, "It's too late. The bridge has been burned, and the ashes have long since scattered to the wind!"