5.0
Comment(s)
58
View
11
Chapters

Alan Alexander Milne was born in Kilburn, London on January 18th, 1882. He was a pupil at Westminster School and then Trinity College, Cambridge where he graduated with a B.A. in Mathematics in 1903. Whilst there, he edited and wrote for Granta, a student magazine. Coming to the attention of Punch Magazine he contributed humorous verse and whimsical essays which led to him becoming not only a valued contributor but later an assistant editor. During the early part of the 20th century Milne was very prolific keeping up his numerous article writing as well as 18 plays and 3 novels. In 1920 he, and his wife of seven years, Dorothy, thought they were expecting a baby girl. When the baby was born a boy, he was named Christopher Robin Milne. In 1925, the Milne's bought a country home, Cotchford Farm, in Hartfield, East Sussex, and on Christmas Eve that year Pooh first appeared in the London Evening News in a story called "The Wrong Sort Of Bees". A book, Winnie-the-Pooh, was published in 1926, followed by The House at Pooh Corner in 1928. A second collection of nursery rhymes, Now We Are Six, was published in 1927. All three books were illustrated by E. H. Shepard. Milne's life was so much more than Winnie-the-Pooh but his legacy is overshadowed by the world-wide success of that not so bright bear. We hope that by reading this work you too will agree.

Once a Week Chapter 1 PRIMROSE FARM

Primrose Farm stood slumbering in the sunlight of an early summer morn. Save for the gentle breeze which played in the tops of the two tall elms all Nature seemed at rest. Chanticleer had ceased his song; the pigs were asleep; in the barn the cow lay thinking. A deep peace brooded over the rural scene, the peace of centuries. Terrible to think that in a few short hours ... but perhaps it won't. The truth is I have not quite decided whether to have the murder in this story or in No. XCIX.-The Severed Thumb. We shall see.

As her alarum clock (a birthday present) struck five, Gwendolen French sprang out of bed and plunged her face into the clump of nettles which grew outside her lattice window. For some minutes she stood there, breathing in the incense of the day; then dressing quickly she went down into the great oak-beamed kitchen to prepare breakfast for her father and the pigs. As she went about her simple duties she sang softly to herself, a song of love and knightly deeds. Little did she think that a lover, even at that moment, stood outside her door.

"Heigh-ho!" sighed Gwendolen, and she poured the bran-mash into a bowl and took it up to her father's room.

For eighteen years Gwendolen French had been the daughter of John French of Primrose Farm. Endowed by Nature with a beauty that is seldom seen outside this sort of story, she was yet as modest and as good a girl as was to be found in the county. Many a fine lady would have given all her Parisian diamonds for the peach-like complexion which bloomed on the fair face of Gwendolen. But the gifts of Nature are not to be bought and sold.

There was a sudden knock at the door.

"Come in," cried Gwendolen in surprise. Unless it was the cow, it was an entirely unexpected visitor.

A tall and handsome young man entered, striking his head violently against a beam as he stepped into the low-ceilinged kitchen.

"Good morning," he said, repressing the remark which came more readily to his lips. "Pray forgive this intrusion. The fact is I have lost my way, and I wondered whether you would be kind enough to inform me as to my whereabouts."

Recognizing from his conversation that she was being addressed by a gentleman, Gwendolen curtsied.

"This is Primrose Farm, sir," she said.

"I fear," he replied with a smile, "it has been my misfortune never to have heard so charming a name before. I am Lord Beltravers, of Beltravers Castle, Beltravers. Having returned last night from India I came out for an early stroll this morning, and I fear that I have wandered out of my direction."

"Why," cried Gwendolen, "your lordship is miles from Beltravers Castle. How tired and hungry you must be." She removed a lettuce from the kitchen chair, dusted it, and offered it to him. (That is to say, the chair, not the lettuce.) "Let me get you some milk," she added. Picking up a pail, she went out to inspect the cow.

"Gad," said Lord Beltravers as soon as he was alone. He paced rapidly up and down the tiled kitchen. "Deuce take it," he added recklessly, "she's a lovely girl." The Beltraverses were noted in two continents for their hard swearing.

"Here you are, sir," said Gwendolen, returning with the precious liquid.

Lord Beltravers seized the pail and drained it at a draught.

"Heavens, but that was good!" he said. "What was it?"

"Milk," said Gwendolen.

"Milk; I must remember. And now may I trespass on your hospitality still further by trespassing on your assistance so far as to solicit your help in putting me far enough on my path to discover my way back to Beltravers Castle?" (When he was alone he said that sentence again to himself, and wondered what had happened to it.)

"I will show you," she said simply.

They passed out into the sunlit orchard. In an apple tree a thrush was singing; the gooseberries were over-ripe; beetroots were flowering everywhere.

"You are very beautiful," he said.

"Yes," said Gwendolen.

"I must see you again. Listen! To-night my mother, Lady Beltravers, is giving a ball. Do you dance?"

"Alas, not the tango," she said sadly.

"The Beltraverses do not tang," he announced with simple dignity. "You valse? Good. Then will you come?"

"Thank you, my lord. Oh, I should love to!"

"That is excellent. And now I must bid you good-bye. But first, will you not tell me your name?"

"Gwendolen French, my lord."

"Ah! One 'f' or two?"

"Three," said Gwendolen simply.

Continue Reading

You'll also like

Sexy Behind The Mask

Sexy Behind The Mask

Ellie Wynters
4.7

She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked sex club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith-the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room-Manhattan's most exclusive masked club-she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you."

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book
Once a Week Once a Week A. A. Milne Young Adult
“Alan Alexander Milne was born in Kilburn, London on January 18th, 1882. He was a pupil at Westminster School and then Trinity College, Cambridge where he graduated with a B.A. in Mathematics in 1903. Whilst there, he edited and wrote for Granta, a student magazine. Coming to the attention of Punch Magazine he contributed humorous verse and whimsical essays which led to him becoming not only a valued contributor but later an assistant editor. During the early part of the 20th century Milne was very prolific keeping up his numerous article writing as well as 18 plays and 3 novels. In 1920 he, and his wife of seven years, Dorothy, thought they were expecting a baby girl. When the baby was born a boy, he was named Christopher Robin Milne. In 1925, the Milne's bought a country home, Cotchford Farm, in Hartfield, East Sussex, and on Christmas Eve that year Pooh first appeared in the London Evening News in a story called "The Wrong Sort Of Bees". A book, Winnie-the-Pooh, was published in 1926, followed by The House at Pooh Corner in 1928. A second collection of nursery rhymes, Now We Are Six, was published in 1927. All three books were illustrated by E. H. Shepard. Milne's life was so much more than Winnie-the-Pooh but his legacy is overshadowed by the world-wide success of that not so bright bear. We hope that by reading this work you too will agree.”
1

Chapter 1 PRIMROSE FARM

01/12/2017

2

Chapter 2 BELTRAVERS CASTLE

01/12/2017

3

Chapter 3 AFFIANCED

01/12/2017

4

Chapter 4 EXPOSURE

01/12/2017

5

Chapter 5 SUNDAY MORNING

01/12/2017

6

Chapter 6 UNDER THE CEDAR

01/12/2017

7

Chapter 7 MRS. BEAUCHAMP'S STORY

01/12/2017

8

Chapter 8 THE END

01/12/2017

9

Chapter 9 PREPARATION

01/12/2017

10

Chapter 10 LOVE COMES IN

01/12/2017

11

Chapter 11 ANOTHER SURPRISE

01/12/2017