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Joan and Peter: the Story of an Education by H. G. Wells (Illustrated)Overlay E-Book Reader

Joan and Peter: the Story of an Education by H. G. Wells (Illustrated)

Joan and Peter: the Story of an Education by H. G. Wells (Illustrated)Overlay E-Book Reader
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Veröffentlicht 2017, von H. G. Wells, Delphi Classics(Hg.) bei Delphi Classics (Parts Edition)

ISBN: 978-1-78656-587-7
Reihe: Delphi Parts Edition (H. G. Wells)
379 Seiten

 
...
Kurztext / Annotation
This eBook features the unabridged text of 'Joan and Peter: the Story of an Education' from the bestselling edition of 'The Complete Works of H. G. Wells'.
Having established their name as the leading publisher of classic literature and art, Delphi Classics produce publications that are individually crafted with superior formatting, while introducing many rare texts for the first time in digital print. The Delphi Classics edition of Wells includes original annotations and illustrations relating to the life and works of the author, as well as individual tables of contents, allowing you to navigate eBooks quickly and easily.
eBook features:
The complete unabridged text of 'Joan and Peter: the Story of an Education'
Beautifully illustrated with images related to Wells's works
Individual contents table, allowing easy navigation around the eBook
Excellent formatting of the text
Please visit www.delphiclassics.com to learn more about our wide range of titles



Textauszug
CHAPTER I. - PETER'S PARENTAGE

EARLY one summer morning in England, in the year 1808 in the reign - which seemed in those days to have been going on for ever and to be likely to go on for evermore - of Queen Victoria, there was born a little boy named Peter. Peter was a novel name then; he was before the great crop of Peters who derived their name from Peter Pan. He was born with some difficulty. His father, who had not been to bed all night, for the trouble of the birth had begun overnight at about nine o'clock, was walking about in the garden in a dewy dawn, thinking the world very dreadful and beautiful, when he first heard Peter cry. Peter, he thought, made a noise like a little frightened hen that something big had caught.... Peter's mother had been moaning but now she moaned no more, and Peter's father stood outside and whispered "Oh, God! Oh! Damn them and damn them! why don't they tell met"

Then the nurse put her head out of the window; it was a casement window with white roses about it; said "Everything's all right. I'll tell you when to come in," and vanished again.

Peter's father turned about very sharply so that she should not see he was fool enough to weep, and went along the flagged path to the end of the garden, where was the little summer-house that looked over the Weald. But he could not see the Weald because his tears blinded him. All night Peter's father had been thinking what an imperfect husband he had always been and how he had never really-told his wife how much he loved her, and how indeed until now he had never understood how very much he loved her, and he had been making good resolutions for the future in great abundance, in enormous abundance, the most remarkable good resolutions, and one waking nightmare after another had been chasing across his mind nightmares of a dreadful dark-grey world in which there would be no Dolly, no Dolly at all anywhere, even if you went out into the garden and whistled your utmost, and he would be a widower with only one little lonely child to console him. He could not imagine any other woman for him but Dolly.

The last trailing vestige of those twilight distresses vanished when presently he saw Dolly looking tired indeed but pink and healthy, with her hair almost roguishly astray, and the room full of warm daylight from the dawn-flushed sky, full of fresh south-west air from the Sussex downs, full of the sense of invincible life, and young master Peter, very puckered and ugly and red and pitiful, in a blanket in the nurse's arms, and Dr. Fremisson smirking behind her, entirely satisfied with himself and the universe and every detail of it.

When Dolly had been kissed and whispered to they gave Peter to his father to hold.

Peter's father had never understood before that a baby is an exquisite thing.

The parents of Peter were modern young people, and Peter was no accidental intruder. Their heads were full of new ideas, new that is in the days when Queen Victoria seemed immortal and the world settled for ever. They put Peter in their two sunniest rooms; rarely were the windows shut; his nursery was white and green, bright with pretty pictures and never without flowers. It had a cork carpet and a rug displaying amusing black cats on pink, and he was weighed carefully first once a week and then once a month until he was four years old.

His father, whom everybody called Stubbo, came of an old Quaker stock. Quakerism in its beginnings was a very fine and wonderful religion indeed, a real research for the Kingdom of Heaven on earth, a new way of thinking and living, but weaknesses of the mind and spirit brought it back very soon to a commoner texture. The Stubland family was among those which had been most influenced by the evangelical wave of the Wesleyan time. Peter's great- grandfather, old Stubland, the West-of-England cloth manufacturer, was an emotional

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