Books with title Tales of Holidays

Nine timeless holiday stories from Wales, Italy, France, Russia, Czechoslovakia and the United States. Each of these stories shares a charming tale related to a holiday from another culture. If you are interested in stories about holidays like Halloween, Hanukka, Christmas and Valentine's Day this could be book for you. These short stories are quick reads for young readers.

These nine short folktales feature stories about traditional holidays celebrated from Czechoslovakia, Russia, France, the United States, and other parts of the world.Holy days, or holidays, are celebrated by cultures from around the globe. These are times when people experience the energy and spirit that comes when a day is lifted out of commonplace. Sometimes that spirit is one of love and goodwill; other times it's a sense of renewal or even giddy fear.Holidays are unique because we find unexpected occurrences in everyday routine. Here are nine holiday stories, with descriptions of the days they celebrate, including: New Year's Day ("The Twelve Months"), Halloween ("Whooooo"), Hannukah ("Babushka"), and Christmas ("Christina's Christmas Garden").

These nine short folktales feature stories about traditional holidays celebrated from Czechoslovakia, Russia, France, the United States, and other parts of the world.Holy days, or holidays, are celebrated by cultures from around the globe. These are times when people experience the energy and spirit that comes when a day is lifted out of commonplace. Sometimes that spirit is one of love and goodwill; other times it's a sense of renewal or even giddy fear. Holidays are unique because we find unexpected occurrences in everyday routine. Here are nine holiday stories, with descriptions of the days they celebrate, including: New Year's Day ("The Twelve Months"), Halloween ("Whooooo"), Hannukah ("Babushka"), and Christmas ("Christina's Christmas Garden").

This book is part of the TREDITION CLASSICS series. The creators of this series are united by passion for literature and driven by the intention of making all public domain books available in printed format again - worldwide. At tredition we believe that a great book never goes out of style. Several mostly non-profit literature projects provide content to tredition. To support their good work, tredition donates a portion of the proceeds from each sold copy. As a reader of a TREDITION CLASSICS book, you support our mission to save many of the amazing works of world literature from oblivion.

This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book. ++++ The below data was compiled from various identification fields in the bibliographic record of this title. This data is provided as an additional tool in helping to ensure edition identification: ++++ <title> Holiday Tales<author> Florence Wilford

AMMA, there's such a fine poem here about "seven lovely Campbells" whose father's name was Archibald; it must mean us,—don't you think so?' And a very pretty boy about ten years of age, who had been poring for some time over Wordsworth's Poems, lifted his roguish face to his mother's with a look of pretended conviction. 'Not exactly, Willie, seeing that the poem begins, "Seven daughters had Lord Archibald!"' 'Ah, mamma, you are not to be caught. I do believe you have read everything that ever was written! But now, mamma, which would you rather have—seven daughters or seven sons?' 'I would rather have just what I've got, Willie.' 'Seven sons, then. Oh! mamma, I'm glad you said that; and you know we shall be of much more use to you than a lot of girls. Why, if the French were to come, you needn't be a bit afraid, with all of us to defend you.' 'Baby at the head, armed cap-à-pie, I suppose,' smiled the mother, dancing in her arms her youngest son, a little fellow of about two years old; but she soon set him down in her lap again, for she had been ill, and was still so weak that the least effort tired her.