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The Lost Prince

By Burnett, Frances Hodgson

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Book Id: WPLBN0000219111
Format Type: PDF eBook
File Size: 0.8 MB
Reproduction Date: 2005

Title: The Lost Prince  
Author: Burnett, Frances Hodgson
Volume:
Language: English
Subject: Literature, Literature & thought, Writing.
Collections: Classic Literature Collection
Historic
Publication Date:
Publisher: World Ebook Library

Citation

APA MLA Chicago

Burnett, F. H. (n.d.). The Lost Prince. Retrieved from http://community.schoollibrary.com/


Excerpt
There are many dreary and dingy rows of ugly houses in certain parts of London, but there certainly could not be any row more ugly or dingier than Philibert Place. There were stories that it had once been more attractive, but that had been so long ago that no one remembered the time. It stood back in its gloomy, narrow strips of uncared-for, smoky gardens, whose broken iron railings were supposed to protect it from the surging traffic of a road which was always roaring with the rattle of busses, cabs, drays, and vans, and the passing of people who were shabbily dressed and looked as if they were either going to hard work or coming from it, or hurrying to see if they could find some of it to do to keep themselves from going hungry. The brick fronts of the houses were blackened with smoke, their windows were nearly all dirty and hung with dingy curtains, or had no curtains at all; the strips of ground, which had once been intended to grow flowers in, had been trodden down into bare earth in which even weeds had forgotten to grow. One of them was used as a stone-cutter's yard, and cheap monuments, crosses, and slates were set out for sale, bearing inscriptions beginning with ``Sacred to the Memory of.'' Another had piles of old lumber in it, another exhibited second-hand furniture, chairs with unsteady legs, sofas with horsehair stuffing bulging out of holes in their covering, mirrors with blotches or cracks in them. The insides of the houses were as gloomy as the outside. They were all exactly alike. In each a dark entrance passage led to narrow stairs going up to bedrooms, and to narrow steps going down to a basement kitchen. The back bedroom looked out on small, sooty, flagged yards, where thin cats quarreled, or sat on the coping of the brick walls hoping that sometime they might feel the sun; the front rooms looked over the noisy road, and through their windows came the roar and rattle of it. It was shabby and cheerless on the brightest days, and on foggy or rainy ones it was the most forlorn place in London.

Table of Contents
· II. A YOUNG CITIZEN OF THE WORLD · III. THE LEGEND OF THE LOST PRINCE · IV. THE RAT · V. ``SILENCE IS STILL THE ORDER'' · VI. THE DRILL AND THE SECRET PARTY · VII. ``THE LAMP IS LIGHTED!'' · VIII. AN EXCITING GAME · IX. ``IT IS NOT A GAME'' · X. THE RAT-- AND SAMAVIA · XI. ``COME WITH ME'' · XII. ``ONLY TWO BOYS'' · XIII. LORISTAN ATTENDS A DRILL OF THE SQUAD, AND MARCO MEETS A SAMAVIAN · XIV. MARCO DOES NOT ANSWER · XV. A SOUND IN A DREAM · XVI. THE RAT TO THE RESCUE · XVII. ``IT IS A VERY BAD SIGN'' · XVIII. ``CITIES AND FACES'' · XIX. ``THAT IS ONE!'' · XX. MARCO GOES TO THE OPERA · XXI. ``HELP!'' · XXII. A NIGHT VIGIL · XXIII. THE SILVER HORN · XXIV. ``HOW SHALL WE FIND HIM?'' · XXV. A VOICE IN THE NIGHT · XXVI. ACROSS THE FRONTIER · XXVII. ``IT IS THE LOST PRINCE! IT IS IVOR!'' · XXVIII. ``EXTRA! EXTRA! EXTRA!'' · XXIX. 'TWIXT NIGHT AND MORNING · XXX. THE GAME IS AT AN END · XXXI. ``THE SON OF STEFAN LORISTAN


 
 



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