Chapter One. Grannie Malone and the Twins. One day of the world, when it was young summer in Ireland, old Grannie Malone sat by her fireplace knitting. She was all alone, and in her lap lay a letter. Sometimes she took the letter in her hands, and turned it over and over, and looked at it. Then she would put it down again with a little sigh. “If I but had the learning,” said Grannie Malone to herself, “I could be reading... more...

CHAPTER I THE MAN IN THE FOUR-QUART HAT "You'll find your man in the lobby of the Eagle Hotel or in the neighborhood of the hotel on Main Street," said Dick Prescott. "You can hardly miss him." "But how will I know Mr. Hibbert, when I see him?" pursued the stranger. "I don't know that his name is Hibbert," Dick answered. "However, he is the only young man who has just reached town fresh from Europe. His trunks are pasted all over with... more...

Preface. The following tale contains materials for a full-sized novel, but my readers probably will not object to have them condensed into a single modest volume. The scene of a considerable portion of the story is laid on the coast of Ireland, where the peasantry mostly speak the native Irish, and I have therefore translated what my characters say into ordinary English rather than into the generally received brogue, which would be, coming... more...

The Grateful Indian, A Tale of Rupert’s Land. By William H.G. Kingston. We cannot boast of many fine evenings in old England—dear old England for all that!—and when they do come they are truly lovely and worthy of being prized the more. It was on one of the finest of a fine summer that Mr Frampton, the owner of a beautiful estate in Devonshire, was seated on a rustic bench in his garden, his son Harry, who stood at his knee,... more...

CHAPTER I REALLY A GREAT PLAN, BUT——   S Hen Dutcher came up to a group of boys on the ice, and slowed down his speed, he stuck the point of his right skate in the ice to bring himself to a full stop. "Huh! You fellows think you're some smart on fancy skating, don't you?" he demanded rather scornfully. "No," replied Dave Darrin shortly. "You been showing off a lot, then." "Hen," grimaced Dave, "I'm afraid you're going to... more...

HONOR BRIGHT, PRESIDENT When Honor Bright went to live in the country the very first thing he asked for was some real live geese, to join the chickens, and the pussy, and the rabbits already on the farm. "Will you remember to feed them every day, son, if I get you a pair?" asked his father. "Yes, papa," said the little boy. "Honor bright!" When he promised "Honor bright," he always kept his word. And he said "Honor bright" so many times a... more...

BLACK EYES AND BLUE. A dreary little group was trudging along a Swedish highroad one bright October morning. It was a union between north and south, and like many other unions, not altogether founded on love. The bear, the prominent member of the party, was a Swede, and a Swede in a very bad humour. The iron ring in his torn nose, and the stout stick in the hand of one of his Italian masters, showed very plainly that he needed stern discipline.... more...

A GHASTLY DISCOVERY "Look at that!" Instantly Fred Button and his companion halted and the two boys stared at the sight to which their attention had been directed. Even their guide, who at that time was several yards behind, hastened to join them and was almost as shocked by the sight as was his young companions. "What is it? What is it?" whispered John. "Can't you see?" retorted Fred. "It's a skeleton of a man. The skull is over there," he... more...

CHAPTER I WHERE, OH, WHERE? Field day was past and gone and the senior class of Central High, Centerport’s largest and most popular school, was thinking of little but white dresses, bouquets, and blue-ribboned diplomas. The group of juniors, however, who had made the school’s athletic record for the year in the Girls’ Branch Athletic League, had other matters to discuss—and in their opinion they were matters of much... more...

On a foggy morning of early July in the year 1890, the Labrador mail boat, northward bound from St. Johns, felt her way cautiously into the mist-enveloped harbour of Fort Pelican and to her anchorage. For six days the little steamer had been buffeted by wind and ice and fog, and when at last her engines ceased to throb and she lay at rest in harbour, Allen Shadrach Trowbridge of Boston, her only passenger, felt hugely relieved, for the voyage... more...