A Rough Suitor. “Be quiet! What a silly little fluttering dove it is, struggling like this, ruffling all your plumes, and making your face so red. But how it becomes you!” “Mr Saul Harrington, how dare you!” “Because I love you so, you little beauty. There—and there—and there!” The kisses were given in spite of the frightened looks and struggles; but at each kiss... more...

Chapter One. Dr Martin wore a close-fitting black silk cap. Why? Well, the answer to the old riddle, “Why does a miller wear a white hat?” is, “To keep his head warm.” That answer would do for a reply to the question why this grey, anxious-looking Dr Martin wore a close-fitting black silk cap as he sat poring over an old book opposite Phil Carleton, who also bent over a book; but he was not... more...

CHAPTER I. The birds were singing their best one spring morning, and that means a great deal, for they can sing down in the New Forest on a sunny morning in May, and there was quite a chorus of joy to welcome the Skipper and Dot as they went out through the iron gate at the bottom of the garden. The Skipper had on his last new suit of white duck, bound with blue, and his straw hat with the dark band... more...

Chapter One. In Benchers’ Inn. “My darling! Mine at last!” Ting-tang; ting-tang; ting-tang. Malcolm Stratton, F.Z.S., naturalist, a handsome, dark-complexioned man of eight-and-twenty, started and flushed like a girl as he hurriedly thrust the photograph he had been apostrophising into his breast pocket, and ran to the deep, dingy window of his chambers to look at the clock over the old hall of... more...

Coffee and Chicory, but not for Breakfast. “Just look at him, Dick. Be quiet; don’t speak.” “Oh, the dirty sunburnt little varmint! I’d like the job o’ washing him.” “If you say another word, Dinny, I’ll give you a crack with your own stick.” “An’ is it meself would belave you’d hurt your own man Dinny wid a shtick, Masther Jack? Why ye wouldn’t knock a fly off me.”... more...

Brave and True, by E Dawson. “But I say, Martin, tell us about it! My pater wrote to me that you’d done no end of heroic things, and saved Bullace senior from being killed. His pater told him, so I know it’s all right. But wasn’t it a joke you two should be on the same ship?” Martin looked up at his old schoolfellow. He had suddenly become a person of importance in the well-known old haunts... more...

When a boy is not a boy. “Fine morning, Jack; why don’t you go and have a run?” John Meadows—always “Jack,” because his father’s name was John—upon hearing that father’s voice, raised his dull, dreamy eyes slowly from the perusal of the old Latin author over which he was bending, and looked in Sir John’s face, gazing at him inquiringly as if he had been walking with Cicero in... more...

Chapter One. “You, Tom Jones, let that pot-lid alone.” It was a big brown-faced woman who said that crossly, and a big rough-looking bugler, in the uniform of the 200th Fusiliers, with belts, buttons and facings looking very clean and bright, but the scarlet cloth ragged and stained from the rain and mud, and sleeping in it anywhere, often without shelter, who dropped the lid as if it were hot and... more...

Down in Devon. “Then you’re a villain!” “Nonsense, Mary; be reasonable.” “Reasonable, Captain Armstrong! I am reasonable, and I am telling you the truth. You are a villain!” “Why, you foolish girl, what did you expect?” “That you would be an officer and a gentleman. Once more, is it true that you are going to be married to that lady?” “Well,... more...

“Have I Done Right?” “Better stay here, squire. Aren’t the land good enough for you?” “Oh yes; the land’s good enough, sir.” “Stop and take up a run close by. If you go yonder, the piggers’ll eat you without salt.” Here followed a roar of laughter from the party of idlers who were busy doing nothing with all their might, as they lounged about the wharves and warehouses of Port... more...