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Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr
Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (1831–1919) was a British-American novelist known for her prolific output of over 80 novels, many of which explore themes of women's independence and societal roles. Born in Lancashire, England, she emigrated to the United States in 1854, where she faced numerous personal hardships, including the deaths of her husband and several children. Despite these challenges, she achieved literary success in her later years, with works like "Jan Vedder's Wife" and "The Bow of Orange Ribbon" becoming popular in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
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Maids and Bachelors Women who have devoted themselves for religious purposes to celibacy have in all ages and countries of the world received honor, but those upon whom celibacy has been forced, either through the influence of untoward circumstances, or as a consequence of some want or folly in themselves, have been objects of most unmerited contempt and dislike. Unmerited, because it may be broadly...
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CHAPTER I. SEAT-SANDAL. "This happy breed of men, this little world." "To knowThat which before us lies in daily lifeIs the prime wisdom." "All that are lovers of virtue ... be quiet, and go a-angling." There is a mountain called Seat-Sandal, between the Dunmail Raise and Grisedale Pass; and those who have stood upon its summit know that Grasmere vale and lake lie at their feet,...
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CHAPTER I FISHERS OF CULRAINE The hollow oak our palace is Our heritage the sea. Howe’er it be it seems to me ’Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets And simple faith than Norman blood. Friends, who have wandered with me through England, and Scotland, and old New York, come now to Fife, and I will tell you the story of Christina Ruleson, who lived in the little fishing...
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CHAPTER I THE WORLD SHE LIVED IN It would be easy to walk many a time through "Fife and all the lands about it" and never once find the little fishing village of Pittendurie. Indeed, it would be a singular thing if it was found, unless some special business or direction led to it. For clearly it was never intended that human beings should build homes where these cottages cling together, between...
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Part I. "Gold may be dear bought." A narrow street with dreadful "wynds" and "vennels" running back from it was the High street of Glasgow at the time my story opens. And yet, though dirty, noisy and overcrowded with sin and suffering, a flavor of old time royalty and romance lingered amid its vulgar surroundings; and midway of its squalid length a quaint brown frontage kept...
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CHAPTER FIRSTTHE ATHELINGS âThe Land is a Land of hills and valleys, and drinkethwater of the rain of heaven.â Beyond Thirsk and Northallerton, through the Cleveland Hills to the sea eastward, and by Roseberry Topping, northward, there is a lovely, lonely district, very little known even at the present day. The winds stream through its hills, as cool and fresh as living water; and whatever...
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CHAPTER I. "The changing guests, each in a different mood, Sit at the road-side table and arise: And every life among them in likewise Is a soul's board set daily with new food. "May not this ancient room thou sitt'st in dwell In separate living souls for joy or pain? Nay, all its corners may be painted plain Where Heaven shows...
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CHAPTER I THE thing that I know least about is my beginning. For it is possible to introduce Ethel Rawdon in so many picturesque ways that the choice is embarrassing, and forces me to the conclusion that the actual circumstances, though commonplace, may be the most suitable. Certainly the events that shape our lives are seldom ushered in with pomp or ceremony; they steal upon us unannounced, and begin...
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CHAPTER I THE HOME OF CORNELIA MORAN Never, in all its history, was the proud and opulent city of New York more glad and gay than in the bright spring days of Seventeen-Hundred- and-Ninety-One. It had put out of sight every trace of British rule and occupancy, all its homes had been restored and re-furnished, and its sacred places re-consecrated and adorned. Like a young giant ready to run a race, it...
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THE WEAVING OF DOOM In the early part of this century there lived at Lerwick, in the Shetland Islands, a man called Liot Borson. He was no ignoble man; through sea-fishers and sea-fighters he counted his forefathers in an unbroken line back to the great Norwegian Bor, while his own life was full of perilous labor and he was off to sea every day that a boat could swim. Liot was the outcome of the most...
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