Lorna Doone

When my friend Amanda was sixteen years old, she read Lorna Doone and loved it so much that she decided if she ever had a daughter, she would name her Lorna. Lorna is a delightful young woman (in her first year of college), and Lorna Doone is a wonderful old story (written in 1869). This is the kind of tale told in days gone by, when people had the time to become enthralled, and winter nights were long and cold and dark. Within the pages of this book are evil highwaymen, incredible coincidences, comical blunderers, and a wide array of country and city folk. Most importantly, there is a captive maiden and a strong, steadfast hero. The characters are vivid and intriguing; the places, from the wild windswept moors to the streets of London Town, come alive for the reader; and the plot is filled with excitement as the hero and heroine overcome many a peril in their struggle to be together. I recommend it.
Cathryn Pisarski, Editor of Cune Magazine

From the chapter Witchery Leads to Witchcraft,
     . . . the fearful woman was coming near, and more near to me; and I was glad to sit down on a rock, because my knees were shaking so. I tried to think of many things, but none of them would come to me; and I could not take my eyes away, though I prayed God to be near me.
     But when she was come so nigh to me, that I could descry her features, there was something in her countenance that made me not dislike her. She looked as if she had been visited by many troubles, and had felt them one by one; yet held enough of kindly nature still to grieve for others. Long white hair, on either side, was falling down below her chin; and through her wrinkles, clear bright eyes seemed to spread themselves upon me. Though I had plenty of time to think, I was taken by surprise no less, and unable to say anything; yet eager to hear the silence broken, and longing for a noise or two.
     "Thou are no come to me," she said, looking through my simple face, as if it were but glass, "to be struck for bone-shave, nor to be blessed for barn-gun. Give me forth they hand, John Ridd; and tell why thou art come to me."

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