DigiCat Publishing presents to you this special edition of "When Wilderness Was King" (A Tale of the Illinois Country) by Randall Parrish. DigiCat Publishing considers every written word to be a legacy of humankind. Every DigiCat book has been carefully reproduced for republishing in a new modern format. The books are available in print, as well as ebooks. DigiCat hopes you will treat this work with the acknowledgment and passion it deserves as a classic of world literature.
Parrish (1858-1923) was an American author of popular and historical novels. He trained as a lawyer, spent time as an attorney, and for many years was a newspaper journalist, with stints as a railroad worker and sheep driver in between. In 1886, while managing editor of the Grafton (Nebraska) Leader he was persuaded to join the Congregational ministry and was given charge of churches at Leigh and Howells, Nebraska. He was later ordained by the Blue Valley Association and held a number of pastorates, and was also chairman of the Home Missionary Committee for Southern Illinois. This historical novel subtitled A Tale of the Illinois Country was his first work of fiction, accepted for publication when the manuscript was only half completed, and published in April 1904. Further editions followed in rapid succession - a remarkable sale for a first book, and he went on to establish himself as a successful writer. Reprinted from the third edition with illustrations by the husband and wife team Troy and Margaret West Kinney (The Kinneys).
Book Excerpt: ... We were children together in the blue Berkshire hills, and during all our younger manhood were more than brothers. His little one shall henceforth be as my own child. God hath given her unto us, Mary, as truly as if she had been born of our love. I knew that Roger had married, yet heard nothing of the birth of the child or the loss of his wife. However, from this hour the orphan is to be our own; and we must now decide upon some safe means of bringing her here without delay."He paused. No one of us spoke. His glance slowly wandered from the candle flame, until it settled gravely upon my face as I sat resting on a rude bench fitted into the chimney corner. He looked so intently at me that my mother seemed instantly to interpret his thought."Oh, surely not that, David?" she exclaimed, pleadingly. "Not John?"...
Wildlife expert and Emmy Award-winning Coyote Peterson brings his 12.5 million YouTube subscribers and legions of kid fans a full-color exploration of his "Sting Zone" adventure series, featuring shots from the episodes and culminating in his thrilling encounter with the "King of Sting"--the Executioner Wasp. Coyote Peterson, YouTube star, animal enthusiast, and creator of the Brave Adventure series, has tracked down some of the world's most painfully stinging insects and chronicled getting stung by each of them on his YouTube channel. Coyote has saved the best--or possibly the worst--for last, and he's finally ready to share his experience with the most painful sting in the world: the Executioner Wasp. Featuring full-color stills from his show, and packed with facts about nature's most misunderstood creatures, King of Sting is a dream book for any kid that loves animals, bugs, outdoor exploration, and danger!
This easy-reading autobiography of bear hunting and Indian fighting — written in 1834, two years before Crockett met his fate at the Alamo — popularized tall tales of the frontier.
Surely it was no longer ago than yesterday. I had left the scythe lying at the edge of the long grass, and gone up through the rows of nodding Indian corn to the house, seeking a draught of cool water from the spring. It was hot in the July sunshine; the thick forest on every side intercepted the breeze, and I had been at work for some hours. How pleasant and inviting the little river looked in the shade of the great trees, while, as I paused a moment bending over the high bank, I could see a lazy pike nosing about among the twisted roots below. My mother, her sleeves rolled high over her round white arms, was in the dark interior of the milk-house as I passed, and spoke to me laughingly; and I could perceive my father sitting in his great splint-bottomed chair just within the front doorway, and I marked how the slight current of air toyed with his long gray beard. The old Bible lay wide open upon his knee; yet his eyes were resting upon the dark green of the woods that skirted our clearing. I wondered, as I quaffed the cool sweet water at the spring, if he was dreaming again of those old days when he had been a man among men. How distinct in each detail the memory of it remains! The blue sky held but one fleecy white cloud in all its wide arch; it seemed as if the curling film of smoke rising from our chimney had but gathered there and hung suspended to render the azure more pronounced. A robin peeked impudently at me from an oak limb, and a roguish gray squirrel chattered along the low ridge-pole, with seeming willingness to make friends, until Rover, suddenly spying me, sprang hastily around the comer of the house to lick my hand, with glad barkings and a frantic effort to wave the stub of his poor old tail. It was such a homely, quiet scene, there in the heart of the backwoods, one I had known unchanged so long, that I little dreamed it was soon to witness the turning over of a page of destiny in my life, that almost from that hour I was to sever every relation of the past, and be sent forth to buffet with the rough world alone.
