Lifestyles Books

Dry-Rot. Bolsover College was in a bad temper. It often was; for as a rule it had little else to do; and what it had, was usually a less congenial occupation. Bolsover, in fact, was a school which sadly needed two trifling reforms before it could be expected to do much good in the world. One was, that all its masters should be dismissed; the other was, that all its boys should be expelled. When these... 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...

CHAPTER I. Of course there was a baby in the case—a baby and mongrel dog, and a little boy and girl.  They baby was small, and not particularly fair, but it had round limbs and a dimple or two, and a soft, half-pathetic, half-doggy look in its blue eyes, and the usual knack, which most helpless little babies have, of twining itself round the hearts of those who took care of it. The caretakers of... more...

THE TEMPEST IN THE BAY. "Well, parsenger, we're likely to get in to port before long, if we only have a breeze of wind," said Harvey Barth, the cook and steward of the brig Waldo, in a peculiar, drawling tone, by which any one who knew the speaker might have recognized him without the use of his eyes. The steward was a tall, lank, lantern-jawed man, whose cheek-bones were almost as... more...

Do you know what envy means? I hope you have never felt it, for it is a very wicked feeling. It is being sorry when another has any good thing. Perhaps you will know better what the word means when you have read my story; and I hope it will help you to keep the feeling away from your own heart. Not far from Mr. Lee's house, in Riverdale, lived a man by the name of Green. He was the agent of one of... more...

A FRAGMENT Part I"Those never lovedWho dream that they 'loved once.'"—E. B. Browning."Youwon't be long any way, dear Auntie?" said Sylvia with a little sigh. "I don't half like your going. Couldn't you wait till the day after to-morrow?""Or at least take me with you," said Molly, Sylvia's younger sister, eagerly. Auntie hesitated—she... more...

The Play Commences. Blown to bits; bits so inconceivably, so ineffably, so “microscopically” small that—but let us not anticipate. About the darkest hour of a very dark night, in the year 1883, a large brig lay becalmed on the Indian Ocean, not far from that region of the Eastern world which is associated in some minds with spices, volcanoes, coffee, and piratical junks, namely, the Malay... more...

THE PICTURE. H, Madge, just stay as you are; there—your head a little more turned this way.""But, Raymond, I can't possibly make the toast if I do." "Never mind the toast; I shan't be many minutes," said the boy who was painting in the window, while he mixed some colours in an excited, eager manner. "The fire is very hot. Mayn't I move just to one side?"... more...

his is such a capital night for a story, papa," said Robert Lincoln to his father, who had laid away his newspaper and seemed inclined to take an extra forty winks. "Indeed, Robert," said Mr. Lincoln, smiling, "I wonder if you would ever tire of hearing stories. I don't think I have one left; you and Lily have managed to exhaust my store." "O papa, please don't say... more...

THE WRECK OF A FEAST. What a sad sight it is to see a young child who does not know how to keep a check on the wish that tempts him to do wrong. The first rule that they who love a child should teach him, is the rule of self. It is the want of this self-rule that is the cause of so much that is bad in the world. It is this that makes girls and boys think more of what they want to do, than of what they... more...