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A frightfully piercing whistle resounded in the little room.,

As he spoke Bob did not flinch before the threatening attitude of the two cowboys. “You little shrimp,” said Wesley. “I’ve got half a mind to wring your neck and throw you in the bushes.”,

“The writing might have been nicer, too,” said Johnny apologetically, “but I had such a scratchy, bad pen.”,

There! he had it! Not that he was altogether sure of its being a text exactly, but it was so beautiful! Then Johnny Blossom, with his head on one side, his little snub nose almost touching the paper, wrote, with extraordinary slowness, because the writing was to be so very, very good:

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Johnny Blossom is not local but universal. Interest in him is not even limited to boys. When the book first appeared, a Norwegian reviewer wrote:,

Absorbed in the melancholy reflections which the late intelligence excited, he gave the reins to his horse, and journeyed on unmindful of his way. The evening was far advanced when he discovered that he had taken a wrong direction, and that he was bewildered in a wild and solitary scene. He had wandered too far from the road to hope to regain it, and he had beside no recollection of the objects left behind him. A choice of errors, only, lay before him. The view on his right hand exhibited high and savage mountains, covered with heath and black fir; and the wild desolation of their aspect, together with the dangerous appearance of the path that wound up their sides, and which was the only apparent track they afforded, determined Hippolitus not to attempt their ascent. On his left lay a forest, to which the path he was then in led; its appearance was gloomy, but he preferred it to the mountains; and, since he was uncertain of its extent, there was a possibility that he might pass it, and reach a village before the night was set in. At the worst, the forest would afford him a shelter from the winds; and, however he might be bewildered in its labyrinths, he could ascend a tree, and rest in security till the return of light should afford him an opportunity of extricating himself. Among the mountains there was no possibility of meeting with other shelter than what the habitation of man afforded, and such a shelter there was little probability of finding. Innumerable dangers also threatened him here, from which he would be secure on level ground.,

“I think it’s a rotten shame. I don’t think your father ought to stand in the way of what you want to do.”,

“Oh no, Aunt Grenertsen. Six of them are not bruised at all, and these two only the least bit.”