Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing

Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing
Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing (1841-1885) was an English writer renowned for her children's stories, which often contained elements of fantasy and moral lessons. Her works, including "Jackanapes" and "The Story of a Short Life," are celebrated for their vivid storytelling and deep empathy for young readers. Ewing's literary contributions have left a lasting impact on children's literature, influencing subsequent generations of writers.

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There was once upon a time a child who had Good Luck for his godfather. "I am not Fortune," said Good Luck to the parents; "I have no gifts to bestow, but whenever he needs help I will be at hand." "Nothing could be better," said the old couple. They were delighted. But what pleases the father often fails to satisfy the son: moreover, every man thinks that he deserves just a... more...

CHAPTER I. The care of a large family is no light matter, as everybody knows. And that year I had an unusually large family. No less than seven young urchins for Mrs. Hedgehog and myself to take care of and start in life; and there was not a prickly parent on this side of the brook, or within three fields beyond, who had more than four. My father's brother had six one year, I know. It was the... more...

AN ALLEGORY."Thou that hast given so much to me,Give one thing more—a grateful heart."George Herbert. "Well, father, I don't believe the Browns are a bit better off than we are; and yet when I spent the day with young Brown, we cooked all sorts of messes in the afternoon; and he wasted twice as much rum and brandy and lemons in his trash, as I should want to make good punch of. He... 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... more...

THE BROWNIES. A little girl sat sewing and crying on a garden seat. She had fair floating hair, which the breeze blew into her eyes, and between the cloud of hair, and the mist of tears, she could not see her work very clearly. She neither tied up her locks, nor dried her eyes, however; for when one is miserable, one may as well be completely so. "What is the matter?" said the Doctor, who was a... more...

CHAPTER I. RUPERT'S LECTURES—THE OLD YELLOW LEATHER BOOK. We were very happy—I, Rupert, Henrietta, and Baby Cecil. The only thing we found fault with in our lives was that there were so few events in them. It was particularly provoking, because we were so well prepared for events—any events. Rupert prepared us. He had found a fat old book in the garret, bound in yellow leather, at the end of... more...

WE AND THE WORLD. CHAPTER I. “All these common features of English landscape evince a calm and settled security, and hereditary transmission of home-bred virtues and local attachments, that speak deeply and touchingly for the moral character of the nation.”—Washington Irving’s Sketch Book. It was a great saying of my poor mother’s, especially if my father had been out of spirits about the... more...

CHAPTER I.Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay,The midnight brought the signal sound of strife,The morn the marshalling in arms—the dayBattle's magnificently stern array!The thunder clouds close o'er it, which when rentThe earth is covered thick with other clay,Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent,Rider and horse:—friend,... more...

MARY'S MEADOW. CHAPTER I. Mother is always trying to make us love our neighbors as ourselves. She does so despise us for greediness, or grudging, or snatching, or not sharing what we have got, or taking the best and leaving the rest, or helping ourselves first, or pushing forward, or praising Number One, or being Dogs in the Manger, or anything selfish. And we cannot bear her to despise us! We... more...

INTRODUCTION. Eleanor and I are subject to fads. Indeed, it is a family failing. (By the family I mean our household, for Eleanor and I are not, even distantly, related.) Life would be comparatively dull, up away here on the moors, without them. Our fads and the boys’ fads are sometimes the same, but oftener distinct. Our present one we would not so much as tell them of on any account; because they... more...

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