Lifestyles Books

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...

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...

“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...

THE NEW FARMER. The new house at Woodlawn was nearly completed; and Mr. Curtis now set to work in earnest, clearing the grounds of the rubbish, in order to make the terraces and lay out his avenue in front. Those who have read the other books about Bertie, will know that two wide avenues, enclosed by handsome iron gates, had been already made; one winding along on the shores of Lake Shawsheen, the... more...

FALSE FRIENDS. "Thorns and snares are in the way of the froward."—PROV. xxii. 5. Reflection. Page 25. "Philip, your conduct has distressed me exceedingly," said Lady Grange, laying her hand on the arm of her son, as they entered together the elegant apartment which had been fitted up as her boudoir. "You could not but know my feelings towards those two men—I will not call them... more...

HOW IT BEGAN Jimmy was nearly eight years of age when these strange things happened to him. His full name was James Orchardson Sinclair Wilmot, and he had been at Miss Lawson's small school at Ramsgate since he was six. There were only five boys besides himself, and Miss Roberts was the only governess besides Miss Lawson. The half-term had just passed, and they did not expect to go home for the... more...