William Henry Giles Kingston

Neil D’Arcy’s Life at Sea. My Ancestors—Larry Harrigan, and my Early Education—Choice of a Profession—First Start in Life. “The sea, the sea,” if not my mother, has been my nurse (and anything but a dry one) from the earliest days of my recollection. I was born within the sound of old ocean’s surges; I dabbled in salt water before I could run; and I have floated on salt water, and have... more...

The Hero’s Early Days—Bloxholme, its Squire, His Family and Dependents. “I’ll not stand it, that I won’t, Master Digby. To think that you, a young gentleman who has plenty to eat and drink of everything that’s nice, and more than enough, too, should come and put your fingers through the paper into my jam pots, which I’ve just been and nicely tied down, and all for... more...

Black Fort—The pack-horse train sets out—Sandy McTavish’s sagacity—The night-watch—The two redskin horse-thieves—A snowstorm—An uncomfortable bed and a terrible night—My delight at finding my horse alive—We obtain shelter in a wood—Desperate encounter between a lynx and an eagle for the possession of a hare—The hare becomes my prize—The untimely appearance of a wolf. The short... more...

The Family Party. “Harry, my boy; another slice of beef?” said Major Shafto, addressing his fine young sailor-son, a passed midshipman, lately come home from sea. “No, thank you, since I could not, if I took it, pay due respect to the mince-pies and plum-pudding; but Willy here can manage another slice, I daresay. He has a notion, that he will have to feed for the future on ‘salt junk’ and... more...

Chapter One. On the banks of the river Saal, in Merseburg, forming part of Saxony, at the time of which we speak, governed by the aged and excellent Elector Frederick, stood the Castle of Lindburg. It was one of those feudal piles of the Middle Ages, impregnable to the engines of ancient warfare, but which were destined to crumble before the iron shots with which cannon assailed them, as the system... more...

The two cousins. “Just what brought you to France, fair cousin?” The question was put by a beautiful girl scarcely yet verging on womanhood to a fine intelligent youth, two or three years her senior, as they paced slowly on together through the gardens of the Louvre on the banks of the Seine, flowing at that period bright and clear amid fields and groves. Before them rose the stately palace lately... more...

It was late in the afternoon when Mr Philip Ashton walked up to the door of his residence in Portman-square. His hand touched the knocker irresolutely. “It must be done,” he said to himself. “May strength be given to all of them to bear the blow!” His hand shook as he rapped. The hall door flew open, a servant in handsome livery stood ready to take his hat and gloves. As he entered the... more...

The Trader in Zululand. Zululand is a wild region of mountain ranges, deep valleys and gorges, roaring torrents, rapidly flowing rivers, plains covered with mimosa bushes, meadows where cattle pasture and grow fat, and level plateaux extending for many miles across it, several hundred feet above the level of the ocean; while scattered here and there, in some parts pretty thickly, are to be seen the... more...

Chapter One. My father, Richard Truscott, was boatswain of the Royal George, one of the finest ships in the navy. I lived with mother and several brothers and sisters at Gosport. Father one day said to me, “Ben, you shall come with me, and we’ll make a sailor of you. Maybe you’ll some day walk the quarter-deck as an officer.” I did not want to go to sea, and I did not care about being an... more...

“Hillo, Roger! glad to find you at last. I have been hunting up and down along the cliffs for the last hour or more, till I began to fear that you must have been carried off by a Barbary corsair, or spirited away on the end of Mother Shipton’s broomstick.” The speaker was a fine-looking lad of sixteen, dressed in the costume worn by Puritans in the time of the second Charles—a long cloth coat... more...