Kim, aka Kimball O'Hara, is the orphan son of a British soldier and a for free download in a number of formats - including epub, pdf, azw, mobi and more. Kim by Rudyard Kipling. Adobe PDF icon. Download this document as ronaldweinland.info: File size: MB What's this? light bulb idea Many people prefer to read off-line or. Kim. Rudyard Kipling. This web edition published by [email protected] Last updated Wednesday, December 17, at To the best of our knowledge, .
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Project Gutenberg · 59, free ebooks · 76 by Rudyard Kipling. Kim by Rudyard Kipling. No cover available. Download; Bibrec. 1. KIM. Rudyard Kipling. Kipling, Rudyard () - An English novelist, short-story writer, and poet who spent most of his youth in India, and is best. Kim By Rudyard Kipling. Format: Global Grey free PDF, epub, Kindle ebook. Pages (PDF): Publication Date: Download links are below the donate .
He sat, in defiance of municipal orders, astride the gun Zam- Zammah on her brick platform opposite the old Ajaib-Gher- the Wonder House, as the natives call the Lahore Museum. Who hold Zam-Zammah, that fire-breathing dragon, hold the Punjab, for the great green-bronze piece is always first of the conquerors loot. There was some justification for Kim- he had kicked Lala Dinanaths boy off the trunnions- since the English held the Punjab and Kim was English. Though he was burned black as any native; though he spoke the vernacular by preference, and his mother- tongue in a clipped uncertain sing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the small boys of the bazar; Kim was white- a poor white of the very poorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him she smoked opium, and pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the square where the cheap cabs wait told the missionaries that she was Kims mothers sister; but his mother had been nursemaid in a colonels family and had married Kimball OHara, a young colour-sergeant the Mavericks, an Irish regiment. He afterwards took a post on the Sind, Punjab, and Delhi railway, and his regiment went home without him.
Travelling by train, they encounter a colorful group of people, inside, all India goes in them, Kim begins to love the mad monk and the old man, likewise the father he needs, the son he lacks.
Still the road, is endless, the odd pair, are not successful, in finding the river, tired and discouraged Then the two encounter, Kim's father's, old regiment, by accident, the boy, against his will, is detained and made to attend, a British school. After three long years, the kid learns to read and write, in English, grows to enjoy learning, but never forgetting the monk..
Given six months, to go with his friend, and resume their impossible, strange, quest. The lama had visited numerous, Buddhist shrines, waiting for Kim, many unlikely incidents happen, on the road, even arriving near, the mighty Himalayas.
Greatly helped by a rich, cantankerous, kindly woman, the Sahiba, as they go and see this unique land, spies are everywhere here, unknown dangers, but the real story of this book, is India As Kim asks That question can be answered very easily, Kim is now a man, who loves India You will too , if you read this novel. He sat, in defiance of municipal orders, astride the gun Zam Zammah on her brick platform opposite the old Ajaib-Gher—the Wonder House, as the natives call the Lahore Museum.
Who hold Zam-Zammah, that 'fire-breathing dragon', hold the Punjab, for the great green-bronze piece is always first of the conqueror's loot. There was some justification for Kim—he had kicked Lala Dinanath's boy off the trunnions—since the English held the Punjab and Kim was English.
Though he was burned black as any native; though he spoke the vernacular by preference, and his mother-tongue in a clipped uncertain sing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the small boys of the bazar; Kim was white—a poor white of the very poorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him she smoked opium, and pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the square where the cheap cabs wait told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother's sister; but his mother had been nursemaid in a Colonel's family and had married Kimball O'Hara, a young colour-sergeant of the Mavericks, an Irish regiment.
He afterwards took a post on the Sind, Punjab, and Delhi Railway, and his Regiment went home without him. The wife died of cholera in Ferozepore, and O'Hara fell to drink and loafing up and down the line with the keen-eyed three-year-old baby.
Societies and chaplains, anxious for the child, tried to catch him, but O'Hara drifted away, till he came across the woman who took opium and learned the taste from her, and died as poor whites die in India. His estate at death consisted of three papers—one he called his 'ne varietur' because those words were written below his signature thereon, and another his 'clearance-certificate'.
The third was Kim's birth-certificate. Those things, he was used to say, in his glorious opium-hours, would yet make little Kimball a man. On no account was Kim to part with them, for they belonged to a great piece of magic—such magic as men practised over yonder behind the Museum, in the big blue-and-white Jadoo-Gher—the Magic House, as we name the Masonic Lodge.
It would, he said, all come right some day, and Kim's horn would be exalted between pillars—monstrous pillars—of beauty and strength. The Colonel himself, riding on a horse, at the head of the finest Regiment in the world, would attend to Kim—little Kim that should have been better off than his father. Nine hundred first-class devils, whose God was a Red Bull on a green field, would attend to Kim, if they had not forgotten O'Hara—poor O'Hara that was gang-foreman on the Ferozepore line.
Then he would weep bitterly in the broken rush chair on the veranda. So it came about after his death that the woman sewed parchment, paper, and birth-certificate into a leather amulet-case which she strung round Kim's neck. A Red Bull and a Colonel on a horse will come, but first, my father said, will come the two men making ready the ground for these matters.
That is how my father said they always did; and it is always so when men work magic. Kim, too, held views of his own.
As he reached the years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white men of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim did nothing with an immense success.