Lifestyles Books

A Family Council. “I say, Uncle Dick, do tell me what sort of a place it is.” “Oh, you’ll see when you get there!” “Uncle Jack, you tell me then; what’s it like?” “Like! What, Arrowfield? Ask Uncle Bob.” “There, Uncle Bob, I’m to ask you. Do tell me what sort of a place it is?” “Get out, you young nuisance!” “What a shame!” I said. “Here are you three great clever... more...

Bass for Breakfast. “Have some more bass, Gwyn?” “Please, father.” “You should not speak with your mouth full, my dear,” said Mrs Pendarve, quietly. “No, mother; but I didn’t like to keep father waiting.” “And between the two stools you came to the ground, eh?” said Colonel Pendarve, smiling. “Never mind; hold your plate. Lucky for us, my dear, that we have only one boy. This... more...

In the Fen. Dick Winthorpe—christened Richard by order of his father at the Hall—sat on the top of the big post by the wheelwright’s door. It was not a comfortable seat, and he could only keep his place by twisting his legs round and holding on; but as there was a spice of difficulty in the task, Dick chose it, and sat there opposite Tom Tallington—christened Thomas at the wish of his mother,... 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...

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...

Early Days. It is strange what trifling events—little things apparently in themselves—seem to have the power of shaping our different destinies, and colouring, so to speak, the whole course of our subsequent life! To illustrate this, I may state without exaggeration that, had it not been for Dr Hellyer’s hat—taken in connection with the mischievous promptings of that madcap Tom Larkyns, my... more...

When nursery lamps are veiled, and nurse is singing In accents low,Timing her music to the cradle's swinging,Now fast, now slow,— Singing of Baby Bunting, soft and furry In rabbit cloak,Or rock-a-byed amid the toss and flurryOf wind-swept oak; Of Boy-Blue sleeping with his horn beside him, Of my son John,Who went to bed (let all good boys deride him)With stockings on; Of sweet Bo-Peep following... more...

My early days at home. Brother Jack, a seaman’s bag over his shoulders, trudged sturdily ahead; father followed, carrying the oars, spars, sails, and other gear of the wherry, while as I toddled alongside him I held on with one hand to the skirt of his pea-jacket, and griped the boat-hook which had been given to my charge with the other. From the front of the well-known inn, the “Keppel’s... 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...

LITTLE JANE AND THE POOR MAN. This is little Jane Anderson and her sister. They have been out this morning to take a walk. As they were coming home they saw a poor man lying upon the ground. He was lame, and unable to walk. Jane and her sister felt very sorry for him, and when they were about leaving they gave him a few pennies which they had in their bags.—This was very kind in the little girls. We... more...