CHAPTER I “YOU––YOU SIMPLETON!” A sturdy boy in homespun, a lad of nearly fourteen years, whose eyes were clear and gray and whose face was resolute and honest, led his little sister by the hand, for she was small and the road was rough. “We’ll rest, ’Omi, when we come to the big tree. Are you cold?” he asked, for there was the chill of March in the wind, though the sun lay very warm in the... more...

Ride with Morgan The stocky roan switched tail angrily against a persistent fly and lipped water, dripping big drops back to the surface of the brook. His rider moved swiftly, with an economy of action, to unsaddle, wipe the besweated back with a wisp of last year's dried grass, and wash down each mud-spattered leg with stream water. Always care for the mount first—when a man's life, as well as the safety of his mission, depended on four... more...

WHO I AM Yes, my name is Richard Mutton. Sounds rather queer, doesn't it? The lads in London town used to vex me sorely by calling, "Baa, baa, black sheep," whenever I passed them, and yet he who will may find the name Richard Mutton written in the list of those who were sent to Virginia, in the new world, by the London Company, on the nineteenth day of December, in the year of Our Lord, 1606. Whosoever may chance to read what I am here setting... more...

AMERICAN ALL THROUGH The tom-tom throbbed menacingly through the heavy dark of the Haitian night. Under its monotonous and maddening beat, Stuart Garfield moved restlessly. Why had his father not come back? What mystery lay behind? Often though the boy had visited the island, he had never been able to escape a sensation of fear at that summons of the devotees of Voodoo. Tonight, with the mysterious disappearance of his father weighing heavily... more...

CHAPTER I A SMALL DINNER BECOMES A PARTY “At Delaware’s broad stream, the view beginWhere jutting wharfs, food-freighted boats take in;Then, with the advancing sun direct your eyeWide opes the street with firm brick buildings high;Step, gently rising, over the pebbly way,And see the shops their tempting wares display.” —“Description of Philadelphia,” Breitnal, 1729. It was the first of March, 1782, and... more...

CHAPTER I THE SPY ALARM “There’s a German on the ground! Get him!” The sun glistened on scores of polished bayonets, as sturdy figures, clad in olive drab, which matched in hue the brown of the earth, sprang from their trenches and rushed forward. “Put some pep into it! Lively now! Get the Germans!” There were dull thuds, and there was a ripping, tearing sound as the steel slashed its way through the tough... more...

CLYTIE.   LYTIE was a beautiful little water nymph who lived in a cave at the bottom of the sea. The walls of the cave were covered with pearls and shells. The floor was made of sand as white as snow. There were many chairs of amber with soft mossy cushions. On each side of the cave-opening was a great forest of coral. Back of the cave were Clytie’s gardens. Here were the sea anemones, starfish and all kinds of seaweed. In the... more...

IDA. ... "Thou shall not lackThe flower that's like thy face, pale Primrose." Cymbeline.   The little old lady lived over the way, through a green gate that shut with a click, and up three white steps. Every morning at eight o'clock the church bell chimed for Morning Prayer—chim! chime! chim! chime!—and every morning at eight o'clock the little old lady came down the white steps, and opened the gate with a click, and went... more...

CHAPTER I.JACKO AND HIS WOUNDED TAIL. Did you ever see a monkey? If you have not, I suppose you will like to hear a description of Jacko, Minnie’s sixth pet. He was about eighteen inches high, with long arms, covered with short hair, which he used as handily as a boy, flexible fingers, with flat nails, and a long tail, covered with hair, which seemed to answer the purpose of a third hand. Though monkeys are usually very ugly and... more...

CHAPTER I. MARCY HAS A VISITOR. The boys who have read the first volume of this series of books, in which we followed the fortunes of our Union hero, Marcy Gray, and described the persevering but unsuccessful efforts he made to be true to his colors in deed as well as in spirit, will remember that we left him at his home near Nashville, North Carolina, enjoying a brief respite from the work he so heartily detested, that of privateering. He had... more...