LITTLE FERNS. WHERE IS LITTLE NELLY? She is not in the garden; I have searched under every bush and tree. She is not asleep in the summer-house, or in the old barn. She is not feeding the speckled chickens, or gathering buttercups in the meadows. Her little dog Fidele is weary waiting for her, and her sweet-voiced canary has forgotten to sing. Has anybody seen my little Nelly? She had eyes blue as the summer heavens, hair like woven sunbeams,... more...

CHAPTER I. PAUL DUNCAN DISOBEYS ORDERS. "I'll give you a quarter, Paul, if you will take me down to the Point in your boat," said Thomas Nettle, as he came down to the beach where the boy addressed was baling out an old dingy-looking boat. "It blows too hard," replied Paul Duncan. "The club went down in their boat." "But it didn't blow so hard then as it does now. It's a regular sou'easter." "What are you afraid of, Paul?" "I'm not afraid;... 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 won't argue the matter," interposed the irate old gentleman. "You know... more...

CHAPTER I. LITTLE MILDRED, OR THE GATHERED LAMB.   TOP, Mr. Arthur, if you please. You are not to go upstairs. Mistress left orders for you to stay in the library until she came down.” So spoke the younger servant at Ashton Grange, as Arthur rushed upstairs three steps at a time. “Why, what’s the matter? Why shouldn’t I go upstairs? Is anything the matter?” “I don’t know, Mr. Arthur, whether... more...

MARY'S MEADOW. CHAPTER I. Mother is always trying to make us love our neighbors as ourselves. She does so despise us for greediness, or grudging, or snatching, or not sharing what we have got, or taking the best and leaving the rest, or helping ourselves first, or pushing forward, or praising Number One, or being Dogs in the Manger, or anything selfish. And we cannot bear her to despise us! We despise being selfish, too; but very often we... more...

THE TALLYHO "I never saw a gold mine in my life; and now I'm going to see one," cried Lucy, skipping along in advance of the others. It was quite a large party; the whole Dunlee family, with the two Sanfords,—Uncle James and Aunt Vi,—making ten in all, counting Maggie, the maid. They had alighted from the cars at a way-station, and were walking along the platform toward the tallyho coach which was waiting for them. Lucy was firmly... more...

CHAPTER I OVER THE 'PHONE Mrs. Forbes, Mr. Evringham's housekeeper, answered the telephone one afternoon. She was just starting to climb to the second story and did not wish to be hindered, so her "hello" had a somewhat impatient brevity. "Mrs. Forbes?" "Oh," with a total change of voice and face, "is that you, Mr. Evringham?" "Please send Jewel to the 'phone." "Yes, sir." She laid down the receiver, and moving to the foot of the stairs... more...

CHAPTER I Jessie and the Wizard. On a bright afternoon of a warm day in October, Jessie Carlton sat in the parlor of Glen Morris Cottage. Her elbows rested on the table, her face was held between her two plump little hands, and her eyes were feasting on some charming pictures which were spread out before her. A pretty little work-basket stood on a chair at her side. It contained several yards of rumpled patchwork, two pieces of broadcloth... more...

In Wimpole Street. Sam—or, as he liked to be called, “Mr Samuel,” or “Mr Downes,” holding as he did the important post of confidential and body-servant to Dr Robert Morris, a position which made it necessary for him to open the door to patients and usher them into the consulting-room, and upon particular occasions be called in to help with a visitor who had turned faint about nothing—“a poor plucked... more...

On Board the “Kestrel.” Morning on board the Kestrel, his Britannic majesty’s cutter, lying on and off the south coast on the lookout for larks, or what were to her the dainty little birds that the little falcon, her namesake, would pick up. For the Kestrel’s wings were widespread to the soft south-easterly breeze that barely rippled the water; and mainsail, gaff topsail, staysail, and jib were so new and white that they... more...