Von dem Buch Chronicles Of Avonlea: Original Text Author haben wir 4 gleiche oder sehr ähnliche Ausgaben identifiziert!
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100%: Lucy Maud Montgomery: Chronicles Of Avonlea: Original Text Author (ISBN: 9798608107900) Independently published, Taschenbuch.Nur diese Ausgabe anzeigen…
88%: Lucy Maud Montgomery: Anne of Avonlea: Original Text Author (ISBN: 9798607707538) Independently published, Taschenbuch.Nur diese Ausgabe anzeigen…
71%: Lucy Maud Montgomery: Rainbow Valley: Original Text Author (ISBN: 9798607722340) Independently published, Taschenbuch.Nur diese Ausgabe anzeigen…
67%: Lucy Maud Montgomery: The Story Girl: Original Text Author (ISBN: 9798607727741) Independently published, in Englisch, Taschenbuch.Nur diese Ausgabe anzeigen…
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Rainbow Valley: Original Text Lucy Maud Montgomery Author
~EN PB NWISBN: 9798607722340 bzw. 8607722344, vermutlich in Englisch, Independently published, Taschenbuch, neu.
Lieferung aus: Vereinigte Staaten von Amerika, Lagernd.
It was a clear, apple-green evening in May, and Four Winds Harbour was mirroring back the clouds of the golden west between its softly dark shores. The sea moaned eerily on the sand-bar, sorrowful even in spring, but a sly, jovial wind came piping down the red harbour road along which Miss Cornelia's comfortable, matronly figure was making its way towards the village of Glen St. Mary. Miss Cornelia was rightfully Mrs. Marshall Elliott, and had been Mrs. Marshall Elliott for thirteen years, but even yet more people referred to her as Miss Cornelia than as Mrs. Elliott. The old name was dear to her old friends, only one of them contemptuously dropped it. Susan Baker, the gray and grim and faithful handmaiden of the Blythe family at Ingleside, never lost an opportunity of calling her Mrs. Marshall Elliott, with the most killing and pointed emphasis, as if to say You wanted to be Mrs. and Mrs. you shall be with a vengeance as far as I am concerned. Miss Cornelia was going up to Ingleside to see Dr. and Mrs. Blythe, who were just home from Europe. They had been away for three months, having left in February to attend a famous medical congress in London; and certain things, which Miss Cornelia was anxious to discuss, had taken place in the Glen during their absence. For one thing, there was a new family in the manse. And such a family! Miss Cornelia shook her head over them several times as she walked briskly along.
It was a clear, apple-green evening in May, and Four Winds Harbour was mirroring back the clouds of the golden west between its softly dark shores. The sea moaned eerily on the sand-bar, sorrowful even in spring, but a sly, jovial wind came piping down the red harbour road along which Miss Cornelia's comfortable, matronly figure was making its way towards the village of Glen St. Mary. Miss Cornelia was rightfully Mrs. Marshall Elliott, and had been Mrs. Marshall Elliott for thirteen years, but even yet more people referred to her as Miss Cornelia than as Mrs. Elliott. The old name was dear to her old friends, only one of them contemptuously dropped it. Susan Baker, the gray and grim and faithful handmaiden of the Blythe family at Ingleside, never lost an opportunity of calling her Mrs. Marshall Elliott, with the most killing and pointed emphasis, as if to say You wanted to be Mrs. and Mrs. you shall be with a vengeance as far as I am concerned. Miss Cornelia was going up to Ingleside to see Dr. and Mrs. Blythe, who were just home from Europe. They had been away for three months, having left in February to attend a famous medical congress in London; and certain things, which Miss Cornelia was anxious to discuss, had taken place in the Glen during their absence. For one thing, there was a new family in the manse. And such a family! Miss Cornelia shook her head over them several times as she walked briskly along.
2
The Story Girl: Original Text Lucy Maud Montgomery Author
~EN PB NWISBN: 9798607727741 bzw. 8607727745, vermutlich in Englisch, Independently published, Taschenbuch, neu.
Lieferung aus: Vereinigte Staaten von Amerika, Lagernd.
The Story Girl said that once upon a time. Felix and I, on the May morning when we left Toronto for Prince Edward Island, had not then heard her say it, and, indeed, were but barely aware of the existence of such a person as the Story Girl. We did not know her at all under that name. We knew only that a cousin, Sara Stanley, whose mother, our Aunt Felicity, was dead, was living down on the Island with Uncle Roger and Aunt Olivia King, on a farm adjoining the old King homestead in Carlisle. We supposed we should get acquainted with her when we reached there, and we had an idea, from Aunt Olivia's letters to father, that she would be quite a jolly creature. Further than that we did not think about her. We were more interested in Felicity and Cecily and Dan, who lived on the homestead and would therefore be our roofmates for a season. But the spirit of the Story Girl's yet unuttered remark was thrilling in our hearts that morning, as the train pulled out of Toronto. We were faring forth on a long road; and, though we had some idea what would be at the end of it, there was enough glamour of the unknown about it to lend a wonderful charm to our speculations concerning it. We were delighted at the thought of seeing father's old home, and living among the haunts of his boyhood. He had talked so much to us about it, and described its scenes so often and so minutely, that he had inspired us with some of his own deep-seated affection for it-an affection that had never waned in all his years of exile. We had a vague feeling that we, somehow, belonged there, in that cradle of our family, though we had never seen it. We had always looked forward eagerly to the promised day when father would take us down home, to the old house with the spruces behind it and the famous King orchard before it-when we might ramble in Uncle Stephen's Walk, drink from the deep well with the Chinese roof over it, stand on the Pulpit Stone, and eat apples from our birthday trees.
The Story Girl said that once upon a time. Felix and I, on the May morning when we left Toronto for Prince Edward Island, had not then heard her say it, and, indeed, were but barely aware of the existence of such a person as the Story Girl. We did not know her at all under that name. We knew only that a cousin, Sara Stanley, whose mother, our Aunt Felicity, was dead, was living down on the Island with Uncle Roger and Aunt Olivia King, on a farm adjoining the old King homestead in Carlisle. We supposed we should get acquainted with her when we reached there, and we had an idea, from Aunt Olivia's letters to father, that she would be quite a jolly creature. Further than that we did not think about her. We were more interested in Felicity and Cecily and Dan, who lived on the homestead and would therefore be our roofmates for a season. But the spirit of the Story Girl's yet unuttered remark was thrilling in our hearts that morning, as the train pulled out of Toronto. We were faring forth on a long road; and, though we had some idea what would be at the end of it, there was enough glamour of the unknown about it to lend a wonderful charm to our speculations concerning it. We were delighted at the thought of seeing father's old home, and living among the haunts of his boyhood. He had talked so much to us about it, and described its scenes so often and so minutely, that he had inspired us with some of his own deep-seated affection for it-an affection that had never waned in all his years of exile. We had a vague feeling that we, somehow, belonged there, in that cradle of our family, though we had never seen it. We had always looked forward eagerly to the promised day when father would take us down home, to the old house with the spruces behind it and the famous King orchard before it-when we might ramble in Uncle Stephen's Walk, drink from the deep well with the Chinese roof over it, stand on the Pulpit Stone, and eat apples from our birthday trees.
3
Anne of Avonlea: Original Text Lucy Maud Montgomery Author
~EN PB NWISBN: 9798607707538 bzw. 8607707531, vermutlich in Englisch, Independently published, Taschenbuch, neu.
Lieferung aus: Vereinigte Staaten von Amerika, Lagernd.
At sixteen, Anne is grown up...almost. Her gray eyes shine like evening stars, but her red hair is still as peppery as her temper. In the years since she arrived at Green Gables as a freckle-faced orphan, she has earned the love of the people of Avonlea and a reputation for getting into scrapes. But when Anne begins her job as the new schoolteacher, the real test of her character begins. Along with teaching the three Rs, she is learning how complicated life can be when she meddles in someone else's romance, finds two new orphans at Green Gables, and wonders about the strange behaviour of the very handsome Gilbert Blythe. As Anne enters womanhood, her adventures touch the heart and the funny bone.
At sixteen, Anne is grown up...almost. Her gray eyes shine like evening stars, but her red hair is still as peppery as her temper. In the years since she arrived at Green Gables as a freckle-faced orphan, she has earned the love of the people of Avonlea and a reputation for getting into scrapes. But when Anne begins her job as the new schoolteacher, the real test of her character begins. Along with teaching the three Rs, she is learning how complicated life can be when she meddles in someone else's romance, finds two new orphans at Green Gables, and wonders about the strange behaviour of the very handsome Gilbert Blythe. As Anne enters womanhood, her adventures touch the heart and the funny bone.
4
Chronicles Of Avonlea: Original Text Lucy Maud Montgomery Author
~EN PB NWISBN: 9798608107900 bzw. 8608107902, vermutlich in Englisch, Independently published, Taschenbuch, neu.
Lieferung aus: Vereinigte Staaten von Amerika, Lagernd.
Anne Shirley was curled up on the window-seat of Theodora Dix's sitting-room one Saturday evening, looking dreamily afar at some fair starland beyond the hills of sunset. Anne was visiting for a fortnight of her vacation at Echo Lodge, where Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Irving were spending the summer, and she often ran over to the old Dix homestead to chat for awhile with Theodora. They had had their chat out, on this particular evening, and Anne was giving herself over to the delight of building an air- castle. She leaned her shapely head, with its braided coronet of dark red hair, against the window-casing, and her gray eyes were like the moonlight gleam of shadowy pools. Then she saw Ludovic Speed coming down the lane. He was yet far from the house, for the Dix lane was a long one, but Ludovic could be recognized as far as he could be seen. No one else in Middle Grafton had such a tall, gently-stooping, placidly-moving figure. In every kink and turn of it there was an individuality all Ludovic's own. Anne roused herself from her dreams, thinking it would only be tactful to take her departure. Ludovic was courting Theodora. Everyone in Grafton knew that, or, if anyone were in ignorance of the fact, it was not because he had not had time to find out. Ludovic had been coming down that lane to see Theodora, in the same ruminating, unhastening fashion, for fifteen years!
Anne Shirley was curled up on the window-seat of Theodora Dix's sitting-room one Saturday evening, looking dreamily afar at some fair starland beyond the hills of sunset. Anne was visiting for a fortnight of her vacation at Echo Lodge, where Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Irving were spending the summer, and she often ran over to the old Dix homestead to chat for awhile with Theodora. They had had their chat out, on this particular evening, and Anne was giving herself over to the delight of building an air- castle. She leaned her shapely head, with its braided coronet of dark red hair, against the window-casing, and her gray eyes were like the moonlight gleam of shadowy pools. Then she saw Ludovic Speed coming down the lane. He was yet far from the house, for the Dix lane was a long one, but Ludovic could be recognized as far as he could be seen. No one else in Middle Grafton had such a tall, gently-stooping, placidly-moving figure. In every kink and turn of it there was an individuality all Ludovic's own. Anne roused herself from her dreams, thinking it would only be tactful to take her departure. Ludovic was courting Theodora. Everyone in Grafton knew that, or, if anyone were in ignorance of the fact, it was not because he had not had time to find out. Ludovic had been coming down that lane to see Theodora, in the same ruminating, unhastening fashion, for fifteen years!
5
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Anne of Avonlea: Original Text
~NL PB NWISBN: 9798607707538 bzw. 8607707531, vermutlich in Holländisch, Independently Published, Taschenbuch, neu.
Lieferung aus: Niederlande, 3 - 4 weken.
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6
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Chronicles Of Avonlea: Original Text
~NL PB NWISBN: 9798608107900 bzw. 8608107902, vermutlich in Holländisch, Independently Published, Taschenbuch, neu.
Lieferung aus: Niederlande, 3 - 4 weken.
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Rainbow Valley: Original Text
~NL PB NWISBN: 9798607722340 bzw. 8607722344, vermutlich in Holländisch, Independently Published, Taschenbuch, neu.
Lieferung aus: Niederlande, 3 - 4 weken.
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8
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The Story Girl: Original Text
~EN PB NWISBN: 9798607727741 bzw. 8607727745, vermutlich in Englisch, Independently Published, Taschenbuch, neu.
Lieferung aus: Niederlande, 3 - 4 weken.
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