From my father I have inherited that most worthy of bequests -- a cheerful temper.

"It's a dreadful story," said a hen, and she said it in a part of town, too, where it had not taken place.

It was the latter part of January, and a heavy snowfall was driving down.

Between the Baltic and the North Sea there lives an old swan's nest, and it is called Denmark.

In a small provincial town lived a man who owned his own house.

Dear Charles Dickens once told us the story of the pig, and since that time it has put us in a good humor just to hear one grunt.

There was once a mighty queen, in whose garden were found the most glorious flowers at all seasons of the year and from all countries of the world.

It was in the month of May.

On the highroad in the forest, there stood a lonely farmhouse; the road passed right through its courtyard.

On board the steamer was an elderly man with such a joyful face that if it didn't belie him, he must have been the happiest person on earth.