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Updated: September 2, 2025
To Maida came a wonderful set of paper boxes from Dicky, a long necklace of carved beads from Arthur, a beautiful blank-book, with all her candy recipes, beautifully written out, from Rosie, a warm little pair of knitted bed-shoes from Granny, a quaint, little, old-fashioned locket from Dr. Pierce—he said it had once belonged to another little sick girl who died. From Billy came a book.
He gazed at her a long time in silent admiration, and then spoke briskly. "Now tell me about this North Carolina and all those miles and square miles of mountains." "You've a piece of paper and pencil?" He lifted his hand school-boy fashion: "Johnny on the spot, teacher!" A blank-book and pencil he threw in her lap and leaned close. "Tear the leaves out, if you like."
The ex-circus man sat on the deck with his back against the port bulwark, his knees doubled high before his face as a support for a blank-book in which he was writing industriously. He stopped to lick the end of his pencil, and gazed at the Cap'n. "I was just thinkin' we was havin' about as pleasant a sail as I ever took," he said.
Louis went to the cabin and proceeded to study up the island. He made notes in a little blank-book he kept for the purpose in his pocket, and he had already filled a dozen such books; for they contained a full diary of all the events of the voyage for over a year. Felix kept his spy-glass in his hand all the time, and every few minutes he swept the horizon to the northward with it.
In age he referred to this practice of his boyhood with much pleasure, and regarded it as one of the fortunate exercises that contributed to his eminent success. Many such facts as the following might be cited upon this subject. A farmer's son began, at fourteen years of age, to write something every day, after his work was done, in a blank-book which he kept for the purpose.
Between the last page and the cover of the blank-book, which was confided to me, I found a continuation by a later Ueberhell. This appendix could hardly have been written earlier than towards the end of the last century, to judge by the paper, the stiff, old-fashioned handwriting and, more surely still, by the fact that the writer mentions vaccination as a new discovery.
I only wonder how that little unfortunate can take to such a looking object and she does take to me, poor dear! And now I'll write to him. He's sure to be along in the course of the morning." Taking from her capacious pocket a blank-book and a lead-pencil, Mrs. Susan Sharpe sat down and wrote. And this is what Mrs.
"My dear Rolf" interrupted his mother, "I beg of you to find some one else to guess. I have not time now, truly. Go find Paula, she has just gone into the sitting-room." Rolf obeyed. "Paula," he called out, "My first " "No, Rolf, please, not just now, I am looking for my blank-book to write my French translation in. There is Miss Hanenwinkel, she is good at guessing, ask her."
You couldn't cure her of that. You want her to be happy." "I do I do. Wade, I swear I'll never kill Buster Jack. And for Collie's sake I'll try not to hate him." "Well, that's fine. I'm sure glad to hear you promise that. Now I'll go out an' chop some wood. We mustn't let the fire go out any more." "Pard, I'll write another note a letter to Collie. Hand me the blank-book there.
And so I read a page or two from the small blank-book in which I used to write, saying only, by way of preface, that the April morning my friend so well remembered marked the time when I began that direct appeal to life of which these notes were the first-fruits.
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