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Updated: May 29, 2025
On April 9, 1878, the firm of Van Antwerp, Bragg & Co. determined upon making a new series of readers bearing the well-recognized title of McGuffey's Eclectic Readers and distinguished as a "Revised Edition." Some details of the plan as presented by the partner having literary matters in charge were agreed to.
Captain Scraggs fled, cursing, and sought solace in the pilot house. "It's as black," quoted Mr. Gibney as he entered, "as the Earl of Hell's riding boots." "And as thick," snarled Scraggs, "as McGuffey's head. Lordy me, Gib, but it's thick. You'd think every bloomin' steam pipe in the universe had busted." "If they was all like the Maggie's," Mr.
Gibney halted this dissertation with upraised hand. "Scraggs, it's about time you found out I ain't no potato bug, an' if you think McGuffey's a coddlin' moth you're wrong agin. Fork over them eggs an' the coffee an' a coupler slices o' dummy an' be quick about it or I'll bust your bob-stay." "Get off my ship, you murderin' pirates," Scraggs screamed.
Leaning on McGuffey's shoulder and supported by his arm, the pale-faced stranger, preceded by Moreno, who goes limping and swearing sotto voce down the rocky way, is led a hundred yards along the cañon where it makes a second bend.
We'll open her up an' inspect th' swag." Upon McGuffey's return, Mr. Gibney took charge. He drove the chisel under the lid of the nearest crate, and prepared to pry it loose. Suddenly he paused. A thought had occurred to him. It may be that they are really Oriental goods.
W.H. McGuffey's father was too poor to aid his son in obtaining a collegiate education, and the latter soon turned to teaching as a means of obtaining money to support himself in college. When prepared for college he went back to his native county and entered Washington College. He was in his twenty-sixth year when he graduated with distinguished honors from that institution.
She rocked like a kingbird on the top twig of the winesap, which was the tallest tree in our orchard, and for once there wasn't a single fly in her ointment, not one, she said so herself, and so did father. As we watched the big ve-hi-ackle, as Leon called it, creep slowly down the Little Hill, it made me think of that pathetic poem, "The Three Warnings," in McGuffey's Sixth. I guess I gave Mr.
Those from Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa and Kansas all seemed cut off the same piece. To all intents and purposes they might have come from the same County. They spoke the same dialect, read the same newspapers, had studied McGuffey's Readers, Mitchell's Geography, and Ray's Arithmetics at school, admired the same great men, and held generally the same opinions on any given subject.
The wind whipped his soft black tie a little and ruffled the light hair where it was longest and wavy above his forehead. Such a perfect picture of innocence you never saw. There was one part of him that couldn't be described any better than the way Mr. Rienzi told about his brother in his "Address to the Romans," in McGuffey's Sixth.
This earnest little speech, which came straight from the honest McGuffey's heart, brought the tears to the commodore's eyes. Under the inspiration of McGuffey's unselfish words the glasses were refilled and all three pledged their friendship anew. As for Captain Scraggs, he was naturally of a cold and selfish disposition, and McGuffey's toast appealed more to his brain than to his heart.
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