Lifestyles Books

The Champion Whaler—The Captain and his Children—Sights at Sea—Frigate-Birds and Flying-Fish—A Bonito—Catching Albatrosses—Mutinous Mutterings—A Timely Warning. “A prosperous voyage, and a quick return, Captain Tredeagle,” said the old pilot as he bade farewell to the commander of the Champion, which ship he had piloted down the Mersey on her voyage to the Pacific. “Thank you,... more...

CHAPTER I. A SHIP AT LAST. HIS has been a hard month for me," thought Morley Scott, the pilot, as he stood shading his eyes from the sun, and gazing anxiously out at sea. He hoped to have caught a glimpse of ships in the distance, for the winds had been very contrary lately. Many ships had been obliged to pass by the harbour, unable to get in, and the pilots had found very little to do. "That... more...

In the western part of England lived a gentleman of great fortune, whose name was Merton. He had a large estate in the Island of Jamaica, where he had passed the greater part of his life, and was master of many servants, who cultivated sugar and other valuable things for his advantage. He had only one son, of whom he was excessively fond; and to educate this child properly was the reason of his... 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...

SIXTEEN YEARS BEFORE. "If you do, Edward, you are no son of mine," said the Honorable Peter Montague, wrathfully, to the young gentleman who stood before him with bowed head. "If you connect yourself in any manner with the family of Richard Medway, I will disown you; I will never speak to you; I will never permit you to come into my presence again!" "But, father—" "I... more...

THE LOCK-HOUSE. he mist of a July morning shrouded the river and its banks. It was a soft thin mist, not at all like a winter fog, and through it, and high above it, the sun was shining, and the larks singing; and Edward Rowles, the lock-keeper, knew well that within an hour or two the brightest sunshine would gladden England's river Thames. He came out from his house, which was overgrown with... more...

In the West Countree. “Derry down, derry down, derry down!” A cheery voice rolling out the chorus of an old west-country ditty. Then there was a run of a few yards, a sudden stoppage, and a round, red missile was thrown with considerable force after a blackcock, which rose on whirring wings from among the heather, his violet-black plumage glistening in the autumn sun, as he skimmed over the moor,... more...

CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. It can hardly be supposed that all the boys who take up this book have read the Boat Club; therefore it becomes necessary, before the old friends of the club are permitted to reunite with them, to introduce whatever new friends may be waiting to join them in the sports of the second season at Wood Lake. However wearisome such a presentation may be to those who are already... more...

“Why, Phebe, are you come so soon,Where are your berries, child?You cannot, sure, have sold them all,You had a basket pil’d.”“No, mother, as I climb’d the fence,The nearest way to town,My apron caught upon a stake,And so I tumbled down.“I scratched my arm, and tore my hair,But still did not complain;And had my blackberries been safe,Should not have cared a grain.Phebe and her Mother.“But... more...

NAT ON THE FARM "Nat, where have you been?" "Been fishing," answered the boy addressed, a sturdy youth of sixteen, with clear blue eyes and sandy hair. "Fishin'? And who said you could go fishin'?" demanded Abner Balberry, in his high, nervous voice. "Nobody said I could go," answered the boy, firmly. "But I thought you'd all like to have some fish for... more...