Tom Swift in the City of Gold Or, Marvelous Adventures Underground
Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
| Author: | Victor Appleton | ISBN: | 9781465530769 |
| Publisher: | Library of Alexandria | Publication: | March 8, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Victor Appleton |
| ISBN: | 9781465530769 |
| Publisher: | Library of Alexandria |
| Publication: | March 8, 2015 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
You’ve got me, Tom. Must be in Sweden, or Holland, or some of those foreign countries. I don’t often handle letters from there, so I can’t say. Why don’t you open your letter and find out who its from?” “That’s what I ought to have done at first.” Quickly Tom ripped open the much worn and frayed envelope, through the cracks of which some parts of the letter already could be seen, showing that it had traveled many thousand miles before it got to the village of Shopton, in New York State. “Well, I’ve got to be traveling on,” remarked the postman, as Tom started to read the mysterious letter. “I’m late as it is. You can tell me the news when I pass again, Tom.” But the young inventor did not reply. He was too much engaged in reading the missive, for, no sooner had he perused the first few lines than his eyes began to open wide in wonder, and his manner plainly indicated his surprise. He read the letter once, and then over again, and when he had finished it a second time, he made a dash for the house. “I say dad!” cried Tom. “This is great! Great news here! Where are you, dad? Say, Mrs. Baggert,” he called as he saw the mOtherly housekeeper, “where’s father? I’ve got great news for him? Where is he
You’ve got me, Tom. Must be in Sweden, or Holland, or some of those foreign countries. I don’t often handle letters from there, so I can’t say. Why don’t you open your letter and find out who its from?” “That’s what I ought to have done at first.” Quickly Tom ripped open the much worn and frayed envelope, through the cracks of which some parts of the letter already could be seen, showing that it had traveled many thousand miles before it got to the village of Shopton, in New York State. “Well, I’ve got to be traveling on,” remarked the postman, as Tom started to read the mysterious letter. “I’m late as it is. You can tell me the news when I pass again, Tom.” But the young inventor did not reply. He was too much engaged in reading the missive, for, no sooner had he perused the first few lines than his eyes began to open wide in wonder, and his manner plainly indicated his surprise. He read the letter once, and then over again, and when he had finished it a second time, he made a dash for the house. “I say dad!” cried Tom. “This is great! Great news here! Where are you, dad? Say, Mrs. Baggert,” he called as he saw the mOtherly housekeeper, “where’s father? I’ve got great news for him? Where is he
