Lifestyles Books

CHAPTER I BILLY WRITES A LETTER Billy Neilson was eighteen years old when the aunt, who had brought her up from babyhood, died. Miss Benton's death left Billy quite alone in the world—alone, and peculiarly forlorn. To Mr. James Harding, of Harding & Harding, who had charge of Billy's not inconsiderable property, the girl poured out her heart in all its loneliness two days after the... more...

CHAPTER I. ON THE ERIE ROAD. "Papers, magazines, all the popular novels! Can't I sell you something this morning?" Joshua Bascom turned as the train boy addressed him, and revealed an honest, sunburned face, lighted up with pleasurable excitement, for he was a farmer's son and was making his first visit to the city of New York. "I ain't much on story readin'," he... more...

The Old Tower—Captain Askew’s Family—The Smugglers—Why Jack Askew went to Sea. There was an old grey weather-beaten stone tower standing on the top of a high rocky promontory, which formed the western side of a deep bay, on the south coast of England. The promontory was known as the Stormy Mount, which had gradually been abbreviated into Stormount, a very appropriate name, for projecting, as it... more...

Captain Revel is Cross. “Late again, Nic,” said Captain Revel. “Very sorry, father.” “Yes, you always are ‘very sorry,’ sir. I never saw such a fellow to sleep. Why, when I was a lad of your age—let’s see, you’re just eighteen.” “Yes, father, and very hungry,” said the young man, with a laugh and a glance at the breakfast-table. “Always are very hungry. Why, when I was a lad... more...

CHAPTER 1 The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could... more...

Four Folk o’ Bristol City. “Mind your head! Crikey! That was near, ’nother inch, and you’d ha’ crushed him like an eggshell.” “Well, you told me to lower down.” “No, I didn’t, stupid.” “Yes, you did.” “No, I didn’t. You’re half tipsy, or half asleep, or—” “There, there, hold your tongue, Jem. I’m not hurt, and Mike thought you said lower away. That’s enough.”... more...

The Boy in the Garden. I always felt as if I should like to punch that boy’s head, and then directly after I used to feel as if I shouldn’t care to touch him, because he looked so dirty and ragged. It was not dirty dirt, if you know what I mean by that, but dirt that he gathered up in his work—bits of hay and straw, and dust off a shed floor; mud over his boots and on his toes, for you could see... more...

SUNSHINE FACTORY. "Oh, dear! it always does rain when I want to go anywhere," cried little Jennie Moore. "It's too bad! Now I've got to stay in-doors all day, and I know I shall have a wretched day." "Perhaps so," said Uncle Jack; "but you need not have a bad day unless you choose." "How can I help it? I wanted to go to the park and hear the band, and take... more...

CHAP. I. ABOUT CROTCHETS. Don't be frightened, reader, at what you see on the title-page of this book, or at the head which I have given to my first chapter. Don't let the idea creep into your head, that I am going to give you a dull and sleepy essay on music. It is not the crotchets which you find in the singing-book, that I intend to talk about; I leave them to those who know more about... more...

CHAPTER I ON THE TRAIN "We're making time now, Tom." "Making time?" repeated Tom Rover as he gazed out of the car window at the telegraph poles flashing past. "I should say we were, Sam! Why, we must be running sixty miles an hour!" "If we are not we are making pretty close to it," came from a third boy of the party in the parlor car. "I think the engineer is... more...