BABY TED. "Where did you get those eyes so blue?" "Out of the sky as I came through." Christmas week a good many years ago. Not an "old-fashioned" Christmas this year, for there was no snow or ice; the sky was clear and the air pure, but yet without the sharp, bracing clearness and purity that Master Jack Frost brings when he comes to see us in one of his nice, bright, sunny humours. For he has humours as well as other... more...

A FRAGMENT Part I "Those never lovedWho dream that they 'loved once.'"—E. B. Browning. "You won't be long any way, dear Auntie?" said Sylvia with a little sigh. "I don't half like your going. Couldn't you wait till the day after to-morrow?" "Or at least take me with you," said Molly, Sylvia's younger sister, eagerly. Auntie hesitated—she glanced up at as much of the sky as could be seen through the lace-shrouded windows of their... more...

In an old world garden dreaming,Where the flowers had human names,Methought, in fantastic seeming,They disported as squires and dames.   Of old in Rosamond's Bower,With it's peacock hedges of yew,One could never find the flowerUnless one was given the clue;So take the key of the wicket,Who would follow my fancy free,By formal knot and clipt thicket,And smooth greensward so fair to see   And while Time his scythe is... more...

THE OLD YEAR being dead, and the NEW YEAR coming of age, wh: he does by Calendar Law, as soon as the breath is out of the old gentleman’s body, nothing would serve the young spark but he must give a dinner upon the occasion, to wh: all the Days in the year were invited. The Festivals, whom he deputed as his stewards, were mightily taken with the notion. They   had been engaged time out of mind, they said, in providing mirth and... more...

A carrion crow sat on an oak,Watching a tailor shape his cloak."Wife, bring me my old bent bow,That I may shoot yon carrion crow."The tailor he shot and missed his mark,And shot his own sow quite through the heart."Wife, wife, bring brandy in a spoon,For our old sow is in a swoon." B Ba, ba, black sheep,  Have you any wool?Yes, marry, have I,  Three bags full.One for my master,  One for my... more...

CHAPTER I.FLOSS'S BABY. "Where did you come from, Baby dear?Out of the everywhere into here? "But how did you come to us, you dear?God thought about you, and so I am here!" G. Macdonald. His real name was Fabian. But he was never called anything but Carrots. There were six of them. Jack, Cecil, Louise, Maurice, commonly called Mott, Floss, dear, dear Floss, whom he loved best of all, a long way the best of all, and lastly Carrots.... more...

WALTER CRANE 1893 See handwritten text Mr Dallas's reproductions of my pen drawings for this work appear to me to be very faithful & successful in preserving the touch & general character of the originals.   I have to certify that I have printed 650 copies of each of these eight subjects designed by Walter Crane, and engraved in Dallastype Facsimile by myself. Six Hundred Copies are for sale, viz.:—400 for the United... more...

MAKING FRIENDS. "Good onset bodes good end." Spenser. "Well?" said Ralph. "Well?" said Sylvia. "Well?" said Molly. Then they all three stood and looked at each other. Each had his or her own opinion on the subject which was uppermost in their minds, but each was equally reluctant to express it, till that of the others had been got at. So each of the three said "Well?" to the other two, and stood waiting, as if they were playing the old... more...

PREFACE This book is an attempt to tell some of the stories of King Arthur and his Knights in a way which will be interesting to every boy and girl who loves adventures. Although tales of these old British heroes have been published before in a form intended for young people, it is believed that they have never been related quite in the same spirit nor from the same point of view; and it is hoped that the book will fill a place hitherto vacant... more...

Queen Summeror the Tourneyof the Lily & the Rosepenned & portrayedby Walter Crane Cassell & Co: Ld: London: Paris: & Melbourne     When Summer on the earth was queenShe held her court in gardens greenFair hung with tapestry of leaves,Where threads of gold the sun enweavesWith checquered patterns on the floorOf velvet lawns the scythe smoothes o’er:Their waving fans the soft winds spreadEach way to... more...