CHAPTER I.   Thornycroft Farm, near Barbury Green, July 1, 190-.   In alluding to myself as a Goose Girl, I am using only the most modest of my titles; for I am also a poultry-maid, a tender of Belgian hares and rabbits, and a shepherdess; but I particularly fancy the rôle of Goose Girl, because it recalls the German fairy tales of my early youth, when I always yearned, but never hoped, to be precisely what I now am. As I was... more...

1. There was an Old Man with a beard,Who said, "It is just as I feared!—Two Owls and a Hen,Four Larks and a Wren,Have all built their nests in my beard!" 2. There was a Young Lady of Ryde,Whose shoe-strings were seldom untied;She purchased some clogs,And some small spotty dogs,And frequently walked about Ryde. 3. There was an Old Man with a nose,Who said, "If you choose to suppose,That my nose is too long,You are certainly... more...

"What's your name, little one?" I began, in as soft a voice as I could manage. And, by the way, why is it we always begin by asking little children their names? Is it because we fancy a name will help to make them a little bigger? You never thought of as king a real large man his name, now, did you? But, however that may be, I felt it quite necessary to know his name; so, as he didn't answer my question, I asked it again a little louder. "What's... more...

CHAPTER I PHIL THE FIDDLER "Viva Garibaldi!" sang a young Italian boy in an uptown street, accompanying himself on a violin which, from its battered appearance, seemed to have met with hard usage. As the young singer is to be the hero of my story, I will pause to describe him. He was twelve years old, but small of his age. His complexion was a brilliant olive, with the dark eyes peculiar to his race, and his hair black. In spite of the dirt,... more...

CHAPTER I A BOY AND HIS DOG Penrod sat morosely upon the back fence and gazed with envy at Duke, his wistful dog. A bitter soul dominated the various curved and angular surfaces known by a careless world as the face of Penrod Schofield. Except in solitude, that face was almost always cryptic and emotionless; for Penrod had come into his twelfth year wearing an expression carefully trained to be inscrutable. Since the world was sure to... more...

Chapter I. We emulate the Rollo books. 'Sure a terrible time I was out o' the way,Over the sea, over the sea,Till I come to Ireland one sunny day,—Betther for me, betther for me:The first time me fut got the feel o' the groundI was strollin' along in an Irish cityThat hasn't its aquil the world aroundFor the air that is sweet an' the girls that are pretty.'—Moira O'Neill. Dublin, O'Carolan's Private Hotel. It is the most absurd... more...

Chapter I. A Triangular Alliance. 'Edina, Scotia's Darling seat!All hail thy palaces and towers!' Edinburgh, April 189-. 22 Breadalbane Terrace. We have travelled together before, Salemina, Francesca, and I, and we know the very worst there is to know about one another. After this point has been reached, it is as if a triangular marriage had taken place, and, with the honeymoon comfortably over, we slip along in thoroughly friendly fashion. I... more...

CHAPTER I PAUL THE PEDDLER "Here's your prize packages! Only five cents! Money prize in every package! Walk up, gentlemen, and try your luck!" The speaker, a boy of fourteen, stood in front of the shabby brick building, on Nassau street, which has served for many years as the New York post office. In front of him, as he stood with his back to the building, was a small basket, filled with ordinary letter envelopes, each labeled "Prize Package."... more...

CHAPTER I. I LEAVE HOME I was born at Oulton, in Suffolk, in the year 1672. I know not the day of my birth, but it was in March, a day or two after the Dutch war began. I know this, because my father, who was the clergyman at Oulton, once told me that in the night of my birth a horseman called upon him, at the rectory, to ask the way to Lowestoft. He was riding from London with letters for the Admiral, he said; but had missed his way somewhere... more...

OUT IN A STORM. "What do you think of this storm, Joe?" "I think it is going to be a heavy one, Ned. I wish we were back home," replied Joe Bodley, as he looked at the heavy clouds which overhung Lake Tandy. "Do you think we'll catch much rain before we get back?" And Ned, who was the son of a rich man and well dressed, looked at the new suit of clothes that he wore. "I'm afraid we shall, Ned. Those black clouds back of Mount Sam mean... more...