Edith Nesbit, página 2 de 10

A gentle tale of romance and art from a noted childrens author . . . "He asked idle questions: she answered them with a conscientious tremulous truthfulness that showed to him as the most finished art. Betty told him nervously and in words ill-chosen everything that he asked to know, but all the while the undercurrent of questions rang strong within her -- When is he to teach me? Where? How? -- so that when at last there was left but the bare fifteen minutes needed to get one home in time for the midday dinner she said abruptly: And when shall I see you again?

Edmund was a boy.The people who did not like him said that he was the most tiresome boy that ever lived, but his grandmother and his other friends said that he had an inquiring mind.And his granny often added that he was the best of boys.But she was very kind and very old.Edmund loved to find out about things.Perhaps you will think that in that case he was constant in his attendance atschool, since there, if anywhere, we may learn whatever there is to be learned. But Edmund did not want to learn things: He wanted to find things out, which is quite different.His inquiring mind led him to take clocks to pieces to see what madethem go, to take locks off doors to see what made them stick.It was Edmund who cut open the India rubber ball to see whatmade it bounce, and he never did see, any more than you didwhen you tried the same experiment.

«La autora con la que más me identifico es E. Nesbit. Es fabulosa, hizo geniales y graciosas historias de fantasía. Sus niños son muy reales y fue totalmente innovadora en su tiempo.»J.K. RowlingLos

Este libro está repleto de dragones, algunos de ellos muy fieros y hambrientos capaces de comerse un ejercito de hipopótamos. Otros, sin embargo, necesitados de amor y muy tiernos, aunque algo estrafalarios que solo esperan un gesto de cariño. Tambien, vas a encontrar, niños y niñas aventureros y muy curiosos capaces de convertirse en intrepidos viajeros al polo norte en busca de dragones helados. Las princesas y principes de estos cuentos, que tambien hay, no son nada ñoños y cursis, ya veras. Y hasta vas a encontrar un san Jorge, algo adormilado y con pocas ganas de batallar.

Illus.: H. R. Millar and H. Granville Fell

Illustrator: L. Kemp-Welch

Niños y dragones, princesas que conviven con los maléficos dones de sus hadas madrinas, pelotas saltarinas, marineros expertos en cálculo matemático, montañas mágicas y ratones guardianes son algunos de los protagonistas de estos cuentosNiños y dragones, princesas que conviven con los maléficos dones de sus hadas madrinas, pelotas saltarinas, marineros expertos en cálculo matemático, montañas mágicas y ratones guardianes son algunos de los protagonistas de estos cuentos escritos con el innovador estilo de E. Nesbit. Publicados originalmente en 1901, los niños españoles de hace un siglo tuvieron la suerte de poder leerlosy divertirse con ellosya que, desde 1919, fueron publicados en varias de las colecciones de la editorial Calleja. En esta pequeña antologia de cuentos, Plaga de dragones, se han seleccionado seis de aquellos relatos, conservando la agil traduccion y las rompedoras ilustraciones de los dibujantes españoles que entonces trabajaban para la editorial Calleja. Su autora, E. Nesbit, inaugura en estos cuentos un genero que rompe las fronteras fisicas y temporales que separan lo domestico de lo fantastico y que sigue vivo en novelas actuales de gran exito. No en vano es conocida como la abuela de Harry Potter y considerada como inspiradora de los clasicos infantiles mas leidos de la literatura ...

" He was waiting for her, he had been waiting an hour and a half in a dusty suburban lane, with a row of big elms on one side and some eligible building sites on the other-and far away to the south-west the twinkling yellow lights of the Crystal Palace. It was not quite like a country lane, for it had a pavement and lamp-posts, but it was not a bad place for a meeting all the same: and farther up, towards the cemetery, it was really quite rural, and almost pretty, especially in twilight But twilight had long deepened into the night, and still he waited. He loved her, and he was engaged to be married to her, with the complete disapproval of every reasonable person who had been consulted. And this half-clandestine meeting was tonight to take the place of the grudgingly sanctioned weekly interview-because a certain rich uncle was visiting at her house, and her mother was not the woman to acknowledge to a moneyed uncle, who might "go off" any day, a match so deeply ineligible as hers with him. "

" He was waiting for her, he had been waiting an hour and a half in a dusty suburban lane, with a row of big elms on one side and some eligible building sites on the other-and far away to the south-west the twinkling yellow lights of the Crystal Palace. It was not quite like a country lane, for it had a pavement and lamp-posts, but it was not a bad place for a meeting all the same: and farther up, towards the cemetery, it was really quite rural, and almost pretty, especially in twilight But twilight had long deepened into the night, and still he waited. He loved her, and he was engaged to be married to her, with the complete disapproval of every reasonable person who had been consulted. And this half-clandestine meeting was tonight to take the place of the grudgingly sanctioned weekly interview-because a certain rich uncle was visiting at her house, and her mother was not the woman to acknowledge to a moneyed uncle, who might "go off" any day, a match so deeply ineligible as hers with him. "

A gentle tale of romance and art from a noted childrens author . . . "He asked idle questions: she answered them with a conscientious tremulous truthfulness that showed to him as the most finished art. Betty told him nervously and in words ill-chosen everything that he asked to know, but all the while the undercurrent of questions rang strong within her -- When is he to teach me? Where? How? -- so that when at last there was left but the bare fifteen minutes needed to get one home in time for the midday dinner she said abruptly: And when shall I see you again?

nice, moody, horror story. Two best friends are bedevilled by a third friend, who haunts them from grade school to adulthood. He seems to intuit things he cant know, and always tells the truth. One friend escapes to India to get away, the other stays in England. When the escapee returns, he finds his friend shattered and half-mad. Why, is the story.

There was once an old, old castle, it was so old that its I walls and towers and turrets and gateways and arches had crumbled to ruins, and of all its old splendour there were only two little rooms left; and it was here that John the blacksmith had set up his forge. He was too poor to live in a proper house, and no one asked any rent for the rooms in the ruin, because all the lords of the castle were dead and gone this many a year. So there John blew his bellows, and hammered his iron, and did all the work which came his way. This was not much, because most of the trade went to the mayor of the town, who was also a blacksmith in quite a large way of business, and had his huge forge facing the square of the town, and had twelve apprentices, all hammering like a nest of woodpeckers, and twelve journeymen to order the apprentices about, and a patent forge and a selfacting hammer and electric bellows, and all things handsome about him. So that of course the townspeople, whenever they wanted a horse shod or a shaft mended, went to the mayor.

When a young pair of newlyweds settle down into a small cottage in a quiet village, they look forward to a pleasant, pastoral life of domestic bliss. The husband, a practical man, dismisses the superstitious maids tale of an ancient curse about the local churchs marble statues who come to life each year on All Saints Eve to wreak revenge. But then, on the fateful night, he discovers that the stone slabs on which the knights rest are empty. Is his young bride in peril?

When Cyril, Robert, Anthea and Jane rescue the magic sand-fairy from a pet shop, they have no idea of the astonishing adventures to come!

"""Oh! my dear, my dear, how shall I pass the hours till I hold you again?""No thought, then, of my whole lifes completion and consummation being a dream.I staggered up to my room, fell across my bed, and slept heavily and dreamlessly. When I awoke it was high noon. Mildred and her mother were coming to lunch.I remembered, at one oclock, Mildred coming and her existence.Now indeed the dream began.With a penetrating sense of the futility of any action apart from her, I gave the necessary orders for the reception of my guests. When Mildred and her mother came I received them with cordiality; but my genial phrases all seemed to be someone elses. My voice sounded like an echo; my heart was not there.Still, the situation was not intolerable, until the hour when afternoon tea was served in the drawing-room. Mildred and mother kept the conversational pot boiling with"

In Homespun is a collection that was originally published in 1896, and the stories are set in the villages of South Kent and East Sussex that Nesbit knew well. Told in the first person, by a variety of strong, women characters- the sort of character E. Nesbit specialized in - looking back on their earlier lives.

When their mother dies and their fathers business partner runs off with most of their money, the six intrepid Bastable children are determined to restore their familys fallen fortunes.

This collection includes, "The Cat-hood of Maurice", "The Mixed Mine", "Accidental Magic", "The Princess and the Hedge-Pig", "Septimus Septimusson", "The White Cat", "Belinda and Bellamant", "Justnowland", "The Related Muff", "The Aunt and Anabel; "Kenneth and the Carp" and "The Magicians Heart"