Mary Mapes Dodge

On Henley street, in quiet Stratford town, there stands an old half-timbered house. The panels between the dark beams are of soft-colored yellow plaster. The windows are filled with little diamond panes; and in one of the upper rooms they are guarded with fine wire outside the old glass, which is misty with innumerable names scratched all over it. Poets and princes, wise men and foolish, have scrawled... more...

Kitty was a pretty little girl, with gray, laughing eyes, and a dimple in each cheek; but from the time when she first commenced to toddle alone she began to be dangerously fond of running away from home. Let a door be ajar ever so little and out pattered the tiny feet into the streets of the crowded city and all sorts of dangers. Papa and mamma had long consultations of what should be done to correct... more...

THE RAVENS AND THE ANGELS. (A Story of the Middle Ages.) By the Author of "Chronicles of the Schönberg-Cotta Family." I. In those old days, in that old city, they called the cathedral—and they thought it—the house of God. The cathedral was the Father's house for all, and therefore it was loved and honored, and enriched with lavish treasures of wealth and work, beyond any other... more...

A CHILD QUEEN. By Cecilia Cleveland. I wonder how many of the little girl readers of St. Nicholas are fond of history? If they answer candidly, I do not doubt that a very large proportion will declare that they prefer the charming stories they find in St. Nicholas to the dull pages of history, with its countless battles and murdered sovereigns. But history is not every bit dull, by any means, as you... more...

THE GIRL WHO SAVED THE GENERAL.By Charles H. Woodman.Far down the Carolina coast lies the lovely island of St. John, where stood, one hundred years ago, a noble brick-built mansion, with lofty portico and broad piazza. Ancient live-oaks, trembling aspens, and great sycamores, lifted a bower over it to keep off the sun. Threading their way through orange-trees and beds of flowers, spacious walks played... more...

HOW MANDY WENT ROWING WITH THE "CAP'N."BY MARY HALLOCK FOOTE. It was the month of May—the season of fresh shad and apple-blossoms on the Hudson River. "Bub" and "Mandy" Lewis knew more about the shad than they did about the apple-blossoms, for their father was a fisherman, and they lived in a little house built on a steep bank between the road above and the river below.... more...

Where many a cloud-wreathed mountain blanchesEternally in the blue abyss,And tosses its torrents and avalanchesThundering from cliff and precipice,There is the lovely land of the Swiss,—Land of lakes and of icy seas,Of chamois and chalets,And beautiful valleys,Musical boxes, watches, and cheese.Picturesque, with its landscapes green and cool,Sleek cattle standing in shadow or pool,And dairy-maids... more...

THE VIOLIN VILLAGE.By Edith Hawkins.On the borders of the Tyrol and the lovely district known as the "Bavarian Highlands," there is a quaint little village called "Mittenwald," which at first sight appears shut in by lofty mountains as by some great and insurmountable barrier. The villagers are a simple, industrious people, chiefly occupied in the manufacture of stringed musical... more...

ONE SATURDAY BY SARAH WINTER KELLOGG. It was an autumn day in the Indian summer time,—that one Saturday. The Grammar Room class of Budville were going nutting; that is, eight of them were going,—"our set," as they styled themselves. Besides the eight of "our set," Bob Trotter was going along as driver, to take care of the horses and spring wagon on arrival at the woods, while the... more...

FERN-SEED.By Celia Thaxter.She filled her shoes with fern-seed,This foolish little Nell,And in the summer sunshineWent dancing down the dell.For whoso treads on fern-seed,—So fairy stories tell,—Becomes invisible at once,So potent is its spell.A frog mused by the brook-side:"Can you see me!" she cried;He leaped across the water,A flying leap and wide."Oh, that's because I asked... more...