Christmas-Tree Land (eBook)

Mrs. Molesworth (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2018
611 Seiten
Seltzer Books (Verlag)
978-1-4554-4757-2 (ISBN)

Infos

Popular children's book, first published in 1884.According to Wikipedia: 'Mary Louisa Molesworth (29 May 1839 - 20 January 1921) was an English writer of children's stories who wrote for children under the name of Mrs Molesworth... Mrs Molesworth is best known as a writer of books for the young, such as Tell Me a Story (1875), Carrots (1876), The Cuckoo Clock (1877), The Tapestry Room (1879), and A Christmas Child (1880). She has been called 'the Jane Austen of the nursery,' while The Carved Lions (1895) 'is probably her masterpiece.' In the judgement of Roger Lancelyn Green: Mary Louisa Molesworth typified late Victorian writing for girls. Aimed at girls too old for fairies and princesses but too young for Austen and the Brontës, books by Molesworth had their share of amusement, but they also had a good deal of moral instruction. The girls reading Molesworth would grow up to be mothers; thus, the books emphasized Victorian notions of duty and self-sacrifice. Typical of the time, her young child characters often use a lisping style, and words may be misspelt to represent children's speech-'jography' for geography, for instance.'

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Popular children's book, first published in 1884. According to Wikipedia: "e;Mary Louisa Molesworth (29 May 1839 - 20 January 1921) was an English writer of children's stories who wrote for children under the name of Mrs Molesworth... Mrs Molesworth is best known as a writer of books for the young, such as Tell Me a Story (1875), Carrots (1876), The Cuckoo Clock (1877), The Tapestry Room (1879), and A Christmas Child (1880). She has been called "e;the Jane Austen of the nursery,"e; while The Carved Lions (1895) "e;is probably her masterpiece."e; In the judgement of Roger Lancelyn Green: Mary Louisa Molesworth typified late Victorian writing for girls. Aimed at girls too old for fairies and princesses but too young for Austen and the Brontes, books by Molesworth had their share of amusement, but they also had a good deal of moral instruction. The girls reading Molesworth would grow up to be mothers; thus, the books emphasized Victorian notions of duty and self-sacrifice. Typical of the time, her young child characters often use a lisping style, and words may be misspelt to represent children's speech-"e;jography"e; for geography, for instance."e;

Textauszug

CHRISTMAS-TREE LAND BY MRS MOLESWORTH

 

published by Samizdat Express, Orange, CT, USA

established in 1974, offering over 14,000 books

 

Other classic Christmas stories:

• A Christmas Child by Molesworth
• A Christmas Posey by Molesworth
• The Palace in the Garden by Molesworth
• A Christmas Greeting, a series of stories by Hans Christian Andersen

 

feedback welcome: [e-mail]  

visit us at samizdat.com

 

First published by:

London

MACMILLAN AND CO.

1884

 

CHAPTER I. THE WHITE CASTLE.

 

'The way was long, long, long, like the journey in a fairy tale.'

 

MISS FERRIER.

 

 It was not their home. That was easy to be seen by the eager looks of curiosity and surprise on the two little faces inside the heavy travelling carriage. Yet the faces were grave, and there was a weary look in the eyes, for the journey had been long, and it was not for pleasure that it had been undertaken. The evening was drawing in, and the day had been a somewhat gloomy one, but as the light slowly faded, a soft pink radiance spread itself over the sky. They had been driving for some distance through a flat monotonous country; then, as the ground began to rise, the coachman relaxed his speed, and the children, without knowing it, fell into a half slumber.

 

It was when the chariot stopped to allow the horses breathing time that they started awake and looked around them. The prospect had entirely changed. They were now on higher ground, for the road had wound up and up between the hills, which all round encircled an open space--a sort of high up valley, in the centre of which gleamed something white. But this did not at first catch the children's view. It was the hills rising ever higher and higher, clothed from base to summit with fir-trees, innumerable as the stars on a clear frosty night, that struck them with surprise and admiration. The little girl caught her breath with a strange thrill of pleasure, mingled with awe.

 

'Rollo,' she said, catching her brother's sleeve, 'it is a land of Christmas trees!'

 

Rollo gazed out for a moment or two without speaking. Then he gave a sigh of sympathy.

 

'Yes, Maia,' he said; 'I never could have imagined it. Fancy, only fancy, if they were all lighted up!'

 

Maia smiled.

 

'I don't think even the fairies themselves could do that,' she answered.

 

But here their soft-voiced talking was interrupted. Two attendants, an elderly man and a young, rosy-faced woman, whose eyes, notwithstanding her healthy and hearty appearance, bore traces of tears, had got down from their seat behind the carriage.

 

'Master Rollo,'--'My little lady,' they said, speaking together; 'yonder is the castle. The coachman has just shown it to us. This is the first sight of it.'

 

'The white walls one sees gleaming through the trees,' said the girl, pointing as she spoke. 'Marc cannot see it as plainly as I.'

 

'My eyes are not what they were,' said the old servant apologetically.

 

'I see it,'--'and so do I,' exclaimed Rollo and Maia. 'Shall we soon be there?'

 

'Still an hour,' replied Marc; 'the road winds about, he says.'

 

'And already we have been so many, many hours,' said Nanni, the maid, in doleful accents.

 

'Let us hope for a bright fire and a welcome when we arrive,' said old Marc cheerfully. 'Provided only Master Rollo and Miss Maia are not too tired, we should not complain,' he added reprovingly, in a lower voice, turning to Nanni. But Maia had caught the words.

 

'Poor Nanni,' she said kindly. 'Don't be so sad. It will be better when we get there, and you can unpack our things and get them arranged again.'

 

'And then Marc will have to leave us, and who knows how they will treat us in this outlandish country!' said Nanni, beginning to sob again.

 

But just then the coachman looked round to signify that the horses were rested, and he was about to proceed.

 

'Get up, girl--quickly--get up,' said Marc, reserving his scolding, no doubt, till they were again in their places and out of hearing of their little master and mistress.

 

The coachman touched up his horses; they seemed to know they were nearing home, and set off at a brisk pace, the bells on their harness jingling merrily as they went.

 

The cheerful sound, the quicker movement, had its effect on the children's spirits.

 

'It is a strange country,' said Maia, throwing herself back among the cushions of the carriage, as if tired of gazing out. 'Still, I don't see that we need be so very unhappy here.'

 

'Nor I,' said Rollo. 'Nanni is foolish. She should not call it an outlandish country. That to us it cannot be, for it is the country of our ancestors.'

 

'But so long ago, Rollo,' objected Maia.

 

'That does not matter. We are still of the same blood,' said the boy sturdily. 'We must love, even without knowing why, the place that was home to them--the hills, the trees--ah, yes, above all, those wonderful forests. They seem to go on for ever and ever, like the stars, Maia.'

 

'Yet I don't think them as pretty as forests of different kinds of trees,' said Maia thoughtfully. 'They are more strange than beautiful. Fancy them always, always there, in winter and summer, seeing the sun rise and set, feeling the rain fall, and the snow-flakes flutter down on their branches, and yet never moving, never changing. I wouldn't like to be a tree.'

 

'But they do change,' said Rollo. 'The branches wither and then they sprout again. It must be like getting new clothes, and very interesting to watch, I should think. Fancy how funny it would be if our clothes grew on us like that.'

 

Maia gave a merry little laugh.

 

'Yes,' she said; 'fancy waking up in the morning and looking to see if our sleeves had got a little bit longer, or if our toes were beginning to be covered! I suppose that's what the trees talk about.'

 

'Oh, they must have lots of things to talk about,' said Rollo. 'Think of how well they must see the pictures in the clouds, being so high up. And the stars at night. And then all the creatures that live in their branches, and down among their roots,--the birds, and the squirrels, and the field-mice, and the----'

 

'Yes,' interrupted Maia; 'you have rather nice thoughts sometimes, Rollo. After all, I dare say it is not so very stupid to be a tree. I should like the squirrels best of all. I do love squirrels! Can you see the castle any better now, Rollo? It must be at your side.'

 

'I don't see it at all just now,' said Rollo, after peering out for some moments. 'I'm not sure but what it's got round to your side by now, Maia.'

 

'No, it hasn't,' said Maia. 'It couldn't have done. It's somewhere over there, below that rounded hill-top--we'll see it again in a minute, I dare say. Ah, see, Rollo, there's the moon coming out! I do hope we shall often see the moon here. It would be so pretty--the trees would look nearly black. But what are you staring at so, Rollo?'

 

Rollo drew in his head again.

 

'There must be somebody living over there,' he said. 'I see smoke rising--you can hardly see it now, the light is growing so dim, but I'm sure I did see it. There must be a little cottage there somewhere among the trees.'

 

'Oh, how nice!' exclaimed Maia. 'We must find it out. I wonder what sort of people live in it--gnomes or wood-spirits, perhaps? There couldn't be any real people in such a lonely place.'

 

'Gnomes and wood-spirits don't need cottages, and they don't make fires,' replied Rollo.

 

'How do you know?' and Rollo's answer was not quite ready. 'I dare say gnomes like to come up above sometimes, for a change; and I dare say the wood-spirits are cold sometimes, and like to warm themselves. Any way I shall try to find that cottage and see who does live in it. I hope she will let us go on walks as often as we wish, Rollo.'

 

'She--who?' said the boy dreamily. 'Oh, our lady cousin! Yes, I hope so;' but he sighed as he spoke, and this time the sigh was sad.

 

Maia nestled closer to her brother.

 

'I think I was forgetting a little, Rollo,' she said. 'I can't think how I could forget, even for a moment, all our troubles. But father wanted us to try to be happy.'

 

'Yes, I know he did,' said Rollo. 'I am very glad if you can feel happier sometimes, Maia. But for me it is different; I am so much older.'

 

'Only two years,' interrupted Maia.

 

'Well, well, I feel more than that older. And then I have to take care of you till father comes home; that makes me feel older too.'

 

'I wish we could take care of each other,' said Maia; 'I wish we were going to live in a little cottage by ourselves instead of in Lady Venelda's castle. We might have Nanni just to light the fires and cook the dinner, except the creams and pastry and cakes--those I would make myself. And she might also clean the rooms and wash the dishes--I cannot bear washing dishes--and all the rest we...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 1.3.2018
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Kinder- / Jugendbuch ► Bilderbücher
• Themenwelt: Kinder- / Jugendbuch ► Jugendbücher ab 12 Jahre
• ISBN-10: 1-4554-4757-9 / 1455447579
• ISBN-13: 978-1-4554-4757-2 / 9781455447572