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“A Life on the Ocean Wave.” South Africa. Dear Periwinkle,—Since that memorable, not to say miserable, day, when you and I parted at Saint Katherine’s Docks, (see note 1), with the rain streaming from our respective noses—rendering tears superfluous, if not impossible—and the noise of preparation for departure damaging the fervour of our “farewell”—since that day, I have ploughed with...
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The Hunters. It was on a cold winter morning long ago, that Robin Gore, a bold hunter of the backwoods of America, entered his parlour and sat him down to breakfast. Robin’s parlour was also his dining-room, and his drawing-room, besides being his bedroom and his kitchen. In fact, it was the only room in his wooden hut, except a small apartment, opening off it, which was a workshop and lumber-room....
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The Cottage and its Inmates. The family board was spread; the family kettle—an unusually fat one—was singing on the fire, and the family chimney was roaring like a lion by reason of the wind, which blew a hurricane outside, and shook the family mansion, a small wooden hut, to its foundations. The hour was midnight. This fact was indicated by the family clock—a Dutch one, with a face which had...
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The Wreck in the Bay. On a dark November afternoon, not many years ago, Captain Boyns sat smoking his pipe in his own chimney-corner, gazing with a somewhat anxious expression at the fire. There was cause for anxiety, for there raged at the time one of the fiercest storms that ever blew on the shores of England. The wind was howling in the chimney with wild fury; slates and tiles were being swept off...
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The Rover’s Return. On a certain summer morning, about the middle of the present century, a big bluff man, of seafaring aspect, found himself sauntering in a certain street near London Bridge. He was a man of above fifty, but looked under forty in consequence of the healthful vigour of his frame, the freshness of his saltwater face, and the blackness of his shaggy hair. Although his gait, pilot-cloth...
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Lost and Found. There is a particular spot in those wild regions which lie somewhere near the northern parts of Baffin’s Bay, where Nature seems to have set up her workshop for the manufacture of icebergs, where Polar bears, in company with seals and Greenland whales, are wont to gambol, and where the family of Jack Frost may be said to have taken permanent possession of the land. One winter day, in...
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Preface. This tale is founded chiefly on facts furnished by the Postmaster-General’s Annual Reports, and gathered, during personal intercourse and investigation, at the General Post-Office of London and its Branches. It is intended to illustrate—not by any means to exhaust—the subject of postal work, communication, and incident throughout the Kingdom. I have to render my grateful acknowledgments...
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Treats of our Hero and Others. If the entire circuit of a friend’s conversation were comprised in the words “Don’t” and “Do,”—it might perhaps be taken for granted that his advice was not of much value; nevertheless, it is a fact that Philosopher Jack’s most intimate and valuable—if not valued—friend never said anything to him beyond these two words. Nor did he ever condescend to...
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Incidents in Book Making—Introductory. Book making is mixed up, more or less, with difficulties. It is sometimes disappointing; often amusing; occasionally lucrative; frequently expensive, and always interesting—at least to the maker. Of course I do not refer to that sort of book making which is connected with the too prevalent and disgraceful practice of gambling, but to the making of literary...
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Preface. Note: Plan of this Miscellany. There is a vast amount of interesting information, on almost all subjects, which many people, especially the young, cannot attain to because of the expense, and, in some instances, the rarity of the books in which it is contained. To place some of this information, in an attractive form, within the reach of those who cannot afford to purchase expensive books, is...
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