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Paul the Courageous By: Mabel Quiller-Couch (1866-1924) |
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PAUL THE COURAGEOUS. by MABEL QUILLER COUCH 1901
This e text was prepared from a reprint of a version published in 1901. CONTENTS.
Chap. I. A DISAPPOINTMENT. II. HOW PAUL BORE IT. III. PAUL'S HOPES RISE. IV. THE REWARD OF OVER CONFIDENCE. V. THE RESCUE. VI. A SLOW LEARNER. VII. A TROUBLESOME PAIR OF BOOTS. VIII. A MIDNIGHT SEARCH. IX. THE OPEN WINDOW. X. RUMOUR AND APPREHENSION. XI. A TEST OF BRAVERY. XII. STELLA'S ADVENTURE. XIII. PAUL CONFESSES.
CHAPTER I.
A DISAPPOINTMENT. Slewbury was a very fine town in its way; a little quiet and sleepy
perhaps, as country towns often are, but it was large and handsome, and
beautifully situated on the side of a steep hill. It had a grand
market place, a large town hall where concerts were often given, and some
well kept public gardens, of all of which the Slewbury people were very
proud, and justly so. But then, as Paul Anketell and his friends often remarked, "What was there
for boys?" There was absolutely nothing. No river, no sea, no mountains,
or anything. All there was for them in the way of amusement was to go for
walks and pick flowers, and wander about a field or two. Certainly one
could climb a tree, and whittle sticks or make whistles, but one could not
be doing that all the time. No, Paul had long since come to the
conclusion that Slewbury was a miserable place in which to live; he hated
it; and he could not understand why his father had ever settled there. When he was a man, he declared over and over again to Stella and Michael,
he would have a house close to a river, a mountain, and the sea, then he
would have boats and rods, and a sailing boat, so that he would never be
hard up for something to do. To a great extent Paul was right; Slewbury
was a dull, sleepy and prim old town, but boys ought to be able to make
amusements for themselves anywhere; they should have resources within
themselves. Paul had loads of toys, and books, and tools, and a nice
large garden to play in when the weather was fine. But he was a restless
boy, full of longing for adventure and travel, and new sights, and sounds,
and experiences, and the happiest time of the whole year to him was the
summer holiday when all the family went away to the sea, or to some
beautiful spot amongst the mountains. True, the sea had always been the English sea at least it had come to
them at an English seaside town and the mountains had been either Welsh
or Scotch mountains, but the three little Anketells were true British
children and were quite sure there could be no more beautiful mountains or
coasts anywhere in the world. As soon as the Christmas holidays were over and school work had set in,
the children began to think of where they should go when the summer
holidays came, and what they would do, and many and many a discussion they
had as to their favourite spots, and whether they should go to an old
favourite, or try a new one. Plans were made, toys collected, and boxes
packed long before the happy day came, but it all added to the pleasure
and excitement and importance of the long looked forward to event. But dearly as they loved their own country, they had no objection to going
further afield, and when one day Mr. Anketell suggested that that year
they should spend their holiday in Norway, their excitement knew no
bounds. All previous travels and expeditions seemed to sink into
insignificance beside this. To be actually going to live, and sleep, and
eat, on board a real steamer, and to cross the sea to another land seemed
to them a splendid outlook. Every book and picture that could tell them
anything about Norway was eagerly hunted up, all the Norwegian fairy tales
were read again and again, until Stella and Michael at last felt quite
sure that they would meet fairies, and dwarfs, and Vikings wherever they
went. They had no idea what a Viking was like, but they thought it must
be something between a giant and a knight, with all the good qualities of
both... Continue reading book >>
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