Azalea: The Story of a Little Girl in the Blue Ridge Mountains

“A little way to where, please ma’am?” Azalea gasped the question. She was spent with hard climbing, and her heart pounded in her side. The steep path before her was dark and ro...

Ma McBirney, sitting sad-eyed at the edge of the mountain plateau on which her cottage stood, was absently watching the road. She had no reason to suppose that anybody would be...

“Say,” said Hi as he and Jim washed their faces and gave an extra fine brushing to their hair, “ain’t I the lucky one though, going off like this with you-all? I don’t see how i...

“James Stuart McBirney, it is too! Ma’s hung a blue curtain over the place where my clothes hang, and she’s got a braided rug on the floor and a cheesecloth curtain at the windo...

“It’s just took away the last chanct we had of following up that poor little mountain lass,” said he to his old clock. “If it hadn’t been for this tarnation storm I’d ’a’ trampe...

How does news spread on the mountain side? Who carried the word to the little lonely cabins on the wide sides of old Tennyson mountain that there were “things going on” at the M...

It was about sundown and Pa McBirney and Jim were sitting on the porch of their cabin, feeling lonesome and deserted, when Dick Bab, a bachelor who had a house about halfway bet...

The guinea hens wanted everybody to get up. They said so right under the bedroom window; and the turkey gobbler had the same wish and made it known in his most important manner....

“Why, she can’t be far away,” cried Carin, trembling in spite of herself. “I’m sure I can find her, Mrs. McBirney. Where’s Mr. Thompson? He’ll go with me back to the place where...

Mrs. McBirney sat at her loom. Eyes, hands and feet were busy; but no matter how busy she kept them she could not keep her mind and heart at ease. She had come back home when sh...

The Rev. Mr. Absalom Summers, pastor of the Methodist church at Barrington, N. C., got up out of his bed singing. He went to his bath singing, and singing he hastened to the kit...

Among the wide acres of the Atherton place was a certain field known since the memory of the grandfathers as “The Field of Arrows.” It was a level, sunny spot, surrounded by low...

“I reckon you feel a little upset, honey,” she said in her gentle, motherly way. “You saw them grand folks with their fine ways, and beautiful home, and nice clothes, and it mad...

At four o’clock that afternoon, at which time the train bearing Mr. Thompson and Azalea was due at Lee, Ma McBirney went to the “Outlook” and fastened an old sheet in the crotch...

“We had other reasons for coming up here to-night,” Mr. Carson said at last. “We came because we knew that we could sit out here with you all, and that we could all look at this...