1. A.L.O.E. or A Lady of England, would definitely be on my list of favorite books.  She wrote great historical fiction from a very Christian perspective. 

2. Douglas Bond is probably my favorite living author, or very near my favorite.  I have yet to read a book by Bond that I do not like.

3. R.M. Ballantyne, again, I have yet to read anything I do not like by this great author.  Robert Lewis Stevenson termed him “Ballantyne the Brave” in Treasure Island.  His real, adventurous and Christian writing is a joy to read.

Top 3 male characters:

1. Ishmael Worth in Ishmael and it’s sequel Self-Raised by E.D.E.N. Southworth.

2. John Humphreys in The Wide, Wide World by Susan Warner.

3. Edwin Ruthven in The Scottish Chiefs by Jane Porter.

Top 3 female characters:

1. Gertrude Flint in The Lamplighter by Maria S. Cummins

2. Bee Middleton in Ishmael and Self-Raised by E.D.E.N. Southworth

3. Ellen Montgomery in The Wide, Wide World by Susan Warner

Top 30 fiction books in no particular order:

1. The Scottish Chiefs by Jane Porter.

2. That Printer of Udell’s by Harold Bell Wright.

3. The Spanish Brothers by Deborah Alcock.

4. The Lamplighter by Maria S. Cummins.

5. The Robbers’ Cave by A.L.O.E.

6. Prisoners of the Sea by Florence M. Kingsley.

7. The Coral Island by R.M. Ballantyne.

8. The Gorilla Hunters by R.M. Ballantyne.

9. Hostage Lands by Douglas Bond.

10. The Lost Clue by O.F. Walton.

11. The Wide, Wide World by Susan Warner.

12. The White Gypsy by Annette M. Lyster.

13. The Master’s Likeness by Joseph Johnson.

14. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.

15. Little Men by Louisa May Alcott.

16. Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery.

17. Ishmael and Self-Raised by E.D.E.N. Southworth.

18. The Crown and Covenant Series by Douglas Bond.

19. Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen.

20. Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Canon Doyle.

21. To Have and to Hold by Mary Johnston.

22. Sir Knight of the Splendid Way by W.E. Cule.

23. House of Love by Elizabeth Cheney.

24. Titus: A Comrade of the Cross and Stephen: A Soldier of the Cross by Florence M. Kingsley.

25. The Robe by Lloyd C. Douglas.

26. The Transformation of Job by Frederick Vinning Fisher.

27. In the Days of Chivalry by Evelyn Everett-Green.

28. The Hidden Hand by E.D.E.N. Southworth.

29. Vinegar Boy by Alberta Hawse.

30. Mother by Kathleen Norris.

Top 3 books most recently read:

1. The Master’s Hands by Phillip Keller

2. Princess Hildegarde by Sidney Baldwin

3. Bernie’s White Chicken by “Pansy” (The title says it all…quite boring…)

Worst 3 books ever read:

1. Ten Nights in a Barroom  by T. S. Arthur

Can’t think of any others at the moment…if I don’t like it, I usually don’t read it! 

Top 5 scenes from any book:

1. The trial in court of Traverse Rocke in The Hidden Hand.

2. Edwin Ruthven’s last scene in The Scottish Chiefs.

3. When Watson is shot in The Adventure of the Three Garridebs.

4. The end of the journey in Sir Knight of the Splendid Way.

5.  Carlos’ capture in The Spanish Brothers.

The book(s) that made me cry the most:

The Scottish Chiefs, The Spanish Brothers

The book(s) that made me laugh the most:

The Hidden Hand, The Coral Island, The Gorilla Hunters.

The book(s) that made me feel the best at the end:

The Scottish Chiefs, The Spanish Brothers.

Contemporary or Historical?

1. Nothing better than a great old book!

Science Fiction, Fantasy, or Horror?

1. I haven’t really read much, if any, of all three.

Hardback or Trade Paperback or Mass Market Paperback?

1. I hate to buy paperback books if I can help it.

Barnes & Noble or Amazon?

Amazon, I buy a lot from there.

Bookmark or Dog-ear?

Bookmark, never dog-ear!

Alphabetize by author, alphabetize by title, or organize not at all?

Don’t really organize them at all…well, by series, and overall category, but that’s it.

Star Wars or Star Trek?

I must confess, I have read parts of Star Wars, only short parts (there’s so many better things to read)

Keep, Throw Away, or Sell?

Keep the ones worth keeping, throw away the trash, and give away the rest.

Keep dust-jacket or toss it?

Keep it.

Read with dustjacket or remove it?

1. They get in the way and slip off!

Little Women or Anne of Green Gables?

Probably Little Women…though I love both.

Short story or novel?

1. I haven’t read many short stories, though they can be just as good.

Stop reading when tired or at chapter breaks?

If it’s late at night and when I’m tired or bored, where ever I stop, otherwise, chapter breaks.

“It was a dark and stormy night” or “Once upon a time”?

Hmm…both? (depends on the book)

Tear Jerker or Belly Laugh?

I love to cry over books…I say to people that don’t, you’re missing a very good part of life!   I do like to laugh as well, but I’d rather cry, those are the types of books that I like to remember and read over parts again.

Charlotte, Emily, or Anne Brontë?

Haven’t read either, though I’ve been wanting to read Jane Eyre for a while, haven’t gotten around to it.

Buy or Borrow?

Borrow if I’m checking it out (go to the library every week!) and if I loved it, then I want to buy it.

Buying choice: Book Reviews, Recommendation, or Browse?

Recommendations and browsing, mostly.

Collection (short stories by the same author) or Anthology (short stories by different authors)?

Collections?

Crane or Conrad?

Sorry but never read either…

Standalone or Series?

1. Though, with a good author like Douglas Bond, can’t beat the Crown and Covenantseries!

Tidy ending or Cliffhanger?

In a series, a cliffhanger, of sorts…tidy endings, of course, for the others.

Morning reading, afternoon reading, or nighttime reading?

Nighttime, most definitely!

Favorite genre series?

The Crown and Covenant series.

New or used?

1. There is nothing like an old, worn cover…leaving you to wonder, who read this book before, the writing on the inside cover…timeless!

Favorite book of which nobody else has heard?

The Scottish Chiefs by Jane Porter and just about all the others I listed above in the 30 favorite books list…LOL

Once Upon A Qpon…

Counter-Cultural School

The Sunny South, Eh?

Hannah

Make Way for Liberty!
by Montgomery

“Make way for Liberty!” he cried;
 Made way for Liberty, and died!

In arms the Austrian phalanx stood,
A living wall, a human wood!
A wall, where every conscious stone
Seemed to its kindred thousands grown;
A rampart all assaults to bear,
Till time to dust their frames should wear
A wood like that enchanted grove,
In which, with fiends, Rinaldo strove,
Where every silent tree possessed
A spirit prisoned in its breast,
Which the first stroke of coming strife
Would startle into hideous life:
So dense, so still, the Austrians stood,
A living wall, a human wood!

Impregnable their front appears,
All horrent with projected spears,
Whose polished points before them shine,
From flank to flank, one brilliant line,
Bright as the breakers’ splendors run
Along the billows to the sun.

Opposed to these, a hovering band,
Contending for their native laud;
Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke
From manly necks the ignoble yoke,
And forged their fetters into swords,
On equal terms to fight their lords;
And what insurgent rage had gained,
In many a mortal fray maintained:
Marshaled once more at Freedom’s call,
They came to conquer or to fall,
Where he who conquered, he who fell.
Was deemed a dead or living Tell!

And now the work of life and death
Hung on the passing of a breath;
The fire of conflict burned within;
The battle trembled to begin;
Yet, while the Austrians held their ground,
Point for attack was nowhere found;
Where’er the impatient Switzers gazed,
The unbroken line of lances blazed;
That line ‘t were suicide to meet,
And perish at their tyrants’ feet;
How could they rest within their graves,
And leave their homes the home of slaves?
Would they not feel their children tread
With clanking chains above their head?

It must not be: this day, this hour,
Annihilates the oppressor’s power
All Switzerland is in the field,
She will not fly, she can not yield;
Few were the numbers she could boast,
But every freeman was a host,
And felt as though himself were he
On whose sole arm hung victory.

It did depend on one, indeed:
Behold him! Arnold Winkelried!
There sounds not to the trump of fame
The echo of a nobler name.
Unmarked he stood amid the throng,
In rumination deep and long,
Till you might see with sudden grace,
The very thought come o’er his face;
And by the motion of his form:
Anticipate the bursting storm;
And by the uplifting of his brow,
Tell where the bolt would strike, and how.
But ‘t was no sooner thought than done;
The field was in a moment won.

“Make way for Liberty!” he cried:
Then ran, with arms extended wide,
As if his dearest friend to clasp;
Ten spears he swept within his grasp:
“Make way for Liberty!” he cried,
Their keen points met from side to side;
He bowed among them like a tree,
And thus made way for Liberty.

Swift to the breach his comrades fly;
“Make way for Liberty!” they cry,
And through the Austrian phalanx dart,
As rushed the spears through Arnold’s heart;
While instantaneous as his fall,
Rout, ruin, panic, scattered all.
An earthquake could not overthrow
A city with a surer blow.

Thus Switzerland again was free,
Thus Death made way for Liberty!

I went for a lit­tle vi­sit of five days (to Are­ley House). There were ten per­sons in the house, some un­con­vert­ed and long prayed for, some con­vert­ed, but not re­joic­ing Christ­ians. He gave me the pra­yer, “Lord, give me all in this house!” And He just did. Be­fore I left the house ev­ery one had got a bless­ing. The last night of my vis­it af­ter I had re­tired, the gov­ern­ess asked me to go to the two daugh­ters. They were cry­ing, &c.; then and there both of them trust­ed and re­joiced; it was near­ly mid­night. I was too hap­py to sleep, and passed most of the night in praise and re­new­al of my own con­se­cra­tion; and these lit­tle coup­lets formed them­selves, and chimed in my heart one af­ter ano­ther till they fin­ished with “Ever, On­ly, ALL for Thee!”

Havergal Manuscripts

Take My Life and Let It Be

Take my life, and let it be consecrated, Lord, to Thee.
Take my moments and my days; let them flow in ceaseless praise.
Take my hands, and let them move at the impulse of Thy love.
Take my feet, and let them be swift and beautiful for Thee.

Take my voice, and let me sing always, only, for my King.
Take my lips, and let them be filled with messages from Thee.
Take my silver and my gold; not a mite would I withhold.
Take my intellect, and use every power as Thou shalt choose.

Take my will, and make it Thine; it shall be no longer mine.
Take my heart, it is Thine own; it shall be Thy royal throne.
Take my love, my Lord, I pour at Thy feet its treasure store.
Take myself, and I will be ever, only, all for Thee.

This is my prayer, my it be yours as well!

Esther

There is a foe — a ruthless foe-
Such unite to oppose the right ;
In secret ambush he croucheth low,
And the blow he strikes is a deadly blow,—
But flinch not we in the glorious fight !

There is a banner floating wide, —
All unite to defend the right !
The blood of martyrs its folds has dyed,
When the best and bravest fought side by side, —
‘Who would not flinch in the glorious fight ‘ 

There is a Leader exalted high, —
All unite to defend the right !
Through Him His followers hosts defy,
Through Him they learn to do and to die,
And scorn to flinch in the glorious fight !

There is a palm — a victor’s palm, —
All unite to defend the right !
‘Twill be given in realms of peace and calm
To the steadfast spirit, the stalwart arm,
That never flinched in the glorious fight.

Then shall lips touched with living flame
In song unite, in the world of light; —
In our Leader’s strength, in our Leader’s name,
We fought — we struggled — we overcame,
And victors stood in the glorious fight !

By A.L.O.E.

After the Battle
by Victor Hugo

My father, of all heroes, kindliest,
Attended by the soldier he loved best
(Both for his mighty courage and his height),
Rode, where the battle had been fought, as night
Fell on the slain that cumbered all the ground.
Out of the shadows came a feeble sound.
A Spaniard of the army put to rout
Lay by the road, his life blood ebbing out.
Broken and groaning, on death’s very brink,
He whimpered: “Pity me!  A drink!  A drink!”
My father offered then to his hussar
A gourd that hung beside his saddle bar.
“Poor wounded man!  Give this to him,” he said.
The soldier bent over the livid head
Of one whose mongrel blood had not yet tired
Of hate; who clasped a pistol still and fired;
With aim directed on my father’s brow
And cried: “Die, Enemy, I curse you now!”
The ball skimmed close – so close his horse reared – then,
“Give him the drink,” my father said again.

On December 10th, 1520, students and doctors of Wittemberg, Germany, led by Martin Luther, went to a place outside the city where a scaffoldhad been put up. It was lit, and as the flames rose, books and writings of the Catholic Church were brought out to the pile to be burnt. Luther caught up the bull of Pope Leo X and said, “Since thou hast vexed the Holy One of the Lord, may everlasting fire vex and consume thee!” With that, he threw it to the flames, and calmly entered the city again, the crowd cheering after him. D’Aubigne continues to describe this act:

“But the moment in which he burnt the bull, was that in which he declared in the most formal manner his entire separation from the Bishop of Rome and his church, and his attachment to the universal Church, such as it had been founded by the apostles of Jesus Christ. At the eastern gate of the city he lit up a fire that has been burning for three centuries.”

“The papacy [said Luther] is no longer what it was yesterday and the day before. Let it excommunicate and burn my writings!……let it slay me!……it shall not check that which is advancing. Some great portent is at our doors. I burnt the bull, at first with great trembling, but now I experience more joy from it than from any action I have ever done in my life.”

Esther

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

__________

There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.

This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!

__________

I never saw a moor,
I never saw the sea;
Yet know I how the heather looks,
And what a wave must be.

I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven;
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the chart were given.

Emily Dickinson
(December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886)

-Horace Greeley