Tuck Everlasting
List Price: $5.95
Save 5.0%
You Pay: $5.65
Our eBook Library Software is required to purchase and download eBooks. Download it here.
Overview
With more than one million copies in print, Tuck Everlasting has become a much-loved modern-day classic. This new edition features an interview conducted by educator Betsy Hearne in which Natalie Babbitt discusses the book twenty-five years after its first publication.
Editorial Reviews
Editorial Reviews for this product are not available at this time.
Author Information
Bio of Natalie Babbitt
Natalie Babbitt is the author/illustrator of thirteen books for children, among them Tuck Everlasting and Kneeknock Rise, a Newbery Honor Book. She has also written The Devil's Storybook and The Eyes of the Amaryllis, both ALA Notable Children's Books. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island.
Customer Reviews
There are no customer reviews available at this time. To add your review, Register or Sign In to your account using our free eBook Library Software.
Additional Info
Imprint
Macmillan
Filesize
444.83 KB
Number of Pages
144
eBook ISBN
9780374706449
Excerpt from: Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt
1
The road that led to Treegap had been trod out long before by a herd of cows who were, to say the least, relaxed. It wandered along in curves and easy angles, swayed off and up in a pleasant tangent to the top of a small hill, ambled down again between fringes of bee-hung clover, and then cut sidewise across a meadow. Here its edges blurred. It widened and seemed to pause, suggesting tranquil bovine picnics: slow chewing and thoughtful contemplation of the infinite. And then it went on again and came at last to the wood. But on reaching the shadows of the first trees, it veered sharply, swung out in a wide arc as if, for the first time, it had reason to think where it was going, and passed around.
On the other side of the wood, the sense of easiness dissolved. The road no longer belonged to the cows. It became, instead, and rather abruptly, the property of people. And all at once the sun was uncomfortably hot, the dust oppressive, and the meager grass along its edges somewhat ragged and forlorn. On the left stood the first house, a square and solid cottage with a touch-me-not appearance, surrounded by grass cut painfully to the quick and enclosed by a capable iron fence some four feet high which clearly said, "Move on -- we don't want you here." So the road went humbly by and made its way, past cottages more and more frequent but less and less forbidding, into the village. But the village doesn't matter, except for the jailhouse and the gallows. The first house only is important; the first house, the road, and the wood.
There was something strange about the wood. If the look of the first house suggested that you'd better pass it by, so did the look of the wood, but for quite a different reason. The house was so proud of itself that you wanted to make a lot of noise as you passed, and maybe even throw a rock or two. But the wood had a sleeping, otherworld appearance that made you want to speak in whispers. This, at least, is what the cows must have thought: "Let it keep its peace; we won't disturb it."









