Books with author Gene Stone

A broad band of silver moonlight lay across the rippling surface of the little River Rivanna, flowing rapidly through wilderness and sweep of new-made meadowland, bordered by many a tangle of shrubbery and bending sapling, to mingle with the deeper waters of the James. Old Virginia, then young Virginia, lay asleep. It was a land whose thriving plantations sent over to Mother England their great hogsheads of tobacco, but where the settler's axe still hewed out his farm from the pathless backwoods, and the restless and cruel savage prowled on the war trail or followed the deer.Across the ribbon of light the dark head of a horse, flung back as the animal swam with powerful strokes, cut through the current. On its back sat a straight, slender boy of about fourteen with a gun across his shoulder. The horse made directly for the shore, plunged once or twice in the sand, and finally scrambled up the bank to gain footing on a narrow trail among the trees. The boy looked back, jumped down and stamped vigorously, adjusted something that hung limp behind the saddle and, with a pat of the glistening wet neck, sprang up again and urged the horse forward.Both seemed to know the way. When an opening among the thick growth was reached, the pace became a sharp gallop, and before long the lights of a broad, comfortable-looking farmhouse gleamed at them from among the trees.The boy was Thomas Jefferson, the farm-house was his childhood's home at Shadwell, Virginia. Here in the early days of April, 1743, he had been born, and despite the hardships of pioneer life he and the other members of a goodly-sized household had seen many happy days.To-night as he reached home he found the family gathered about the great fireplace where, in spite of the late spring, a cheerful blaze roared up the wide chimney. His mother sat at one side, a wide cradle near her in which a tiny child lay resting among soft coverlets. A group of girls clustered about her, the youngest rocking a doll cradle of her own. Each girl had her own bit of sewing, and the mother's fingers flew busily among her knitting needles. His father and a neighbor who had stopped to spend the night on his way home stood together with their backs to the blaze discussing the Indian troubles that were beginning once again to terrify the border...

Excerpt from The Story of Thomas Jefferson A broad band Of Silver moonlight lay across the rippling surface Of the little River Rivanna, flowing rapidly through wilderness and sweep Of new-made meadowland, bordered by many a tangle Of shrubbery and bending sapling, to mingle with the deeper waters of the James. Old Virginia, then young Virginia, lay asleep. It was a land whose thriving plantations sent over to Mother England their great hogsheads of tobacco, but where the settler's axe still hewed out his farm from the pathless back woods, and the restless and cruel savage prowled on the war trail or followed the deer. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.