Books with title Cornelli by Johanna Spyri, Fiction, Historical

Many writers have suffered injustice in being known as the author of but one book. Such has been the fate of Johanna Spyri, the Swiss authoress, whose reputation is mistakenly supposed to rest on her story of Heidi. To be sure, Heidi is a book that in its field can hardly be overpraised. But the present story is possessed of a deeper treatment of character, combined with equal spirit and humor of a different kind. Cornelli, the heroine, suffers temporarily from the unjust suspicion of her elders, a misfortune which, it is to be feared, still occurs frequently in the case of sensitive children. . . .

HEIDI is a delightful story for children of life in the Alps, one of many tales written by the Swiss authoress, Johanna Spyri, who died in her home at Zurich in 1891. She had been well known to the younger readers of her own country since 1880, when she published her story, HEIMATHLOS, which ran into three or more editions, and which, like her other books, as she states on the title page, was written for those who love children, as well as for the youngsters themselves. Her own sympathy with the instincts and longings of the child's heart is shown in her picture of Heidi. The record of the early life of this Swiss child amid the beauties of her passionately loved mountain-home and during her exile in the great town has been for many years a favorite book of younger readers in Germany and America. Madame Spyri, like Hans Andersen, had by temperament a peculiar skill in writing the simple histories of an innocent world. In all her stories she shows an underlying desire to preserve children alike from misunderstanding and the mistaken kindness that frequently hinder the happiness and natural development of their lives and characters. The authoress, as we feel in reading her tales, lived among the scenes and people she describes, and the setting of her stories has the charm of the mountain scenery amid which she places her small actors.

The work known as the Swiss Family Robinson has long enjoyed a well-merited popularity, and has been perused by a multitude of readers, young and old, with profit as well as pleasure. A Swiss clergyman resolved to better his fortune by emigration. He embarked with his wife and four sons -- the latter ranging from eight to fifteen years of age -- for one of the newly-discovered islands in the Pacific Ocean. Along the coast of New Guinea they encountered a violent storm arose, and finally cast it a wreck upon an unknown coast. The present volume is virtually a continuation of this narrative. The careers of the four sons -- Frank, Ernest, Fritz, and Jack -- are taken up where the preceding chronicler left them off. . . .

"Be still, be still," said the woman. The child's mother was gone, lost to the fierceness of the winter. "I shall find something pretty for you presently; then you must sit down quietly and play with it, and not go outside, not one step, do you hear? Pshaw! there is nothing but rubbish here!" "Well, then give us the rose," said the little girl, still scowling. The woman looked about the room. "There are no roses here," she said. "How should there be, in March?" she added, half vexed at having looked for them. "There," said the child, pointing towards a book that the woman had but a moment before replaced in the cup-board. "Ah! now I know what you mean. So your mother always kept the rose, the 'Fortune rose?' I often envied her when she used to show it to us. . . ."

"Be still, be still," said the woman. The child's mother was gone, lost to the fierceness of the winter. "I shall find something pretty for you presently; then you must sit down quietly and play with it, and not go outside, not one step, do you hear? Pshaw! there is nothing but rubbish here!" "Well, then give us the rose," said the little girl, still scowling. The woman looked about the room. "There are no roses here," she said. "How should there be, in March?" she added, half vexed at having looked for them. "There," said the child, pointing towards a book that the woman had but a moment before replaced in the cup-board. "Ah! now I know what you mean. So your mother always kept the rose, the 'Fortune rose?' I often envied her when she used to show it to us. . . ."

HEIDI is a delightful story for children of life in the Alps, one of many tales written by the Swiss authoress, Johanna Spyri, who died in her home at Zurich in 1891. She had been well known to the younger readers of her own country since 1880, when she published her story, HEIMATHLOS, which ran into three or more editions, and which, like her other books, as she states on the title page, was written for those who love children, as well as for the youngsters themselves. Her own sympathy with the instincts and longings of the child's heart is shown in her picture of Heidi. The record of the early life of this Swiss child amid the beauties of her passionately loved mountain-home and during her exile in the great town has been for many years a favorite book of younger readers in Germany and America. Madame Spyri, like Hans Andersen, had by temperament a peculiar skill in writing the simple histories of an innocent world. In all her stories she shows an underlying desire to preserve children alike from misunderstanding and the mistaken kindness that frequently hinder the happiness and natural development of their lives and characters. The authoress, as we feel in reading her tales, lived among the scenes and people she describes, and the setting of her stories has the charm of the mountain scenery amid which she places her small actors.

The work known as the Swiss Family Robinson has long enjoyed a well-merited popularity, and has been perused by a multitude of readers, young and old, with profit as well as pleasure. A Swiss clergyman resolved to better his fortune by emigration. He embarked with his wife and four sons -- the latter ranging from eight to fifteen years of age -- for one of the newly-discovered islands in the Pacific Ocean. Along the coast of New Guinea they encountered a violent storm arose, and finally cast it a wreck upon an unknown coast. The present volume is virtually a continuation of this narrative. The careers of the four sons -- Frank, Ernest, Fritz, and Jack -- are taken up where the preceding chronicler left them off. . . .

Maezli may be pronounced the most natural and one of the most entertaining of Madame Spyri's creations. The atmosphere is created by an old Swiss castle and by the romantic associations of the noble family who lived there. Plot interest is supplied in abundance by the children of the Bergmann family with varying characters and interests. A more charming group of young people and a more wise and affectionate mother would be hard to find. Every figure is individual and true to life, with his or her special virtues and foibles, so that any grown person who picks up the volume will find it a world in miniature and will watch eagerly for the special characteristics of each child to reappear. Naturalness, generosity and forbearance are shown throughout not by precept but by example. The story is at once entertaining, healthy and, in the best sense of a word often misused, sweet. Insipid books do no one any good, but few readers of whatever age they may be will fail to enjoy and be the better for Maezli.

Rico was almost nine years old and had been to school for two winters. Up there in the mountains there was no school in the summertime; for then the teacher had his field to cultivate and his hay and wood to cut, like everybody else and nobody had time to think of going to school. This was not a great sorrow for Rico, -- he knew how to amuse himself. When he had once taken his place in the morning on the threshold, he would stand there for hours without moving, gazing into the far distance with dreamy eyes, if the door of the house over the way did not open and a little girl make her appearance and look over at him laughingly. Then Rico ran over to her in a trice and the children were busy enough in telling each other what had happened since the evening before and talked incessantly, until Stineli was called into the house. The girl's name was Stineli and she and Rico were of exactly the same age. They began to go to school at the same time, were in the same classes and from that time forward were always together; for there was only a narrow path between their cottages and they were the dearest of friends. . . .

Maezli may be pronounced the most natural and one of the most entertaining of Madame Spyri's creations. The atmosphere is created by an old Swiss castle and by the romantic associations of the noble family who lived there. Plot interest is supplied in abundance by the children of the Bergmann family with varying characters and interests. A more charming group of young people and a more wise and affectionate mother would be hard to find. Every figure is individual and true to life, with his or her special virtues and foibles, so that any grown person who picks up the volume will find it a world in miniature and will watch eagerly for the special characteristics of each child to reappear. Naturalness, generosity and forbearance are shown throughout not by precept but by example. The story is at once entertaining, healthy and, in the best sense of a word often misused, sweet. Insipid books do no one any good, but few readers of whatever age they may be will fail to enjoy and be the better for Maezli.