: M. M. Mangasarian
: The Day's Work Volume 1
: Dead Dodo Religion
: 9781508027201
: 1
: CHF 0.70
:
: Erzählende Literatur
: English
: 419
: DRM
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
Dodo Collections brings you another classic from Rudyard Kipling, 'The Day's Work - Volume 1'.



The Day's Work is a collection of short stories by Rudyard Kipling. It was first published in 1898. There are no poems included between the different stories in The Day's Work, as there are in many other of Kipling's collections.



The stories in it are: 'The Bridge-Builders', 'A Walking Delegate', 'The Ship that Found Herself', 'The Tomb of His Ancestors', 'The Devil and the Deep Sea, 'William the Conqueror - part I', 'William the Conqueror - part II', '.007', 'The Maltese Cat', ''Bread upon the Waters'', 'An Error in the Fourth Dimension', 'My Sunday at Home', 'The Brushwood Boy'.



Josep Rudyard Kipling an English short-story writer, poet, and novelist. He wrote tales and poems of British soldiers in India and stories for children. He was born in Bombay, in the Bombay Presidency of British India, and was taken by his family to England when he was five years old.



Kipli g's works of fiction include The Jungle Book (1894), Kim (1901), and many short stories, including 'The Man Who Would Be King' (1888). His poems include 'Mandalay' (1890), 'Gunga Din' (1890), 'The Gods of the Copybook Headings' (1919), 'The White Man's Burden' (1899), and 'If-' (1910). He is regarded as a major innovator in the art of the short story; his children's books are classics of children's literature; and one critic described his work as exhibiting 'a versatile and luminous narrative gift'.

A WALKING DELEGATE


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ACCORDING TO THE CUSTOM OF Vermont, Sunday afternoon is salting-time on the farm, and, unless something very important happens, we attend to the salting ourselves. Dave and Pete, the red oxen, are treated first; they stay in the home meadow ready for work on Monday. Then come the cows, with Pan, the calf, who should have been turned into veal long ago, but survived on account of his manners; and lastly the horses, scattered through the seventy acres of the Back Pasture.

You must go down by the brook that feeds the clicking, bubbling water-ram; up through the sugar-bush, where the young maple undergrowth closes round you like a shallow sea; next follow the faint line of an old county-road running past two green hollows fringed with wild rose that mark the cellars of two ruined houses; then by Lost Orchard, where nobody ever comes except in cider-time; then across another brook, and so into the Back Pasture. Half of it is pine and hemlock and Spruce, with sumach and little juniper bushes, and the other half is grey rock and boulder and moss, with green streaks of brake and swamp; but the horses like it well enough—our own, and the others that are turned down there to feed at fifty cents a week. Most people walk to the Back Pasture, and find it very rough work; but one can get there in a