he Fairy Violet lived in the heart of a beautiful forest, where, through the glad spring months, the sun shone softly, and the bright flowers bloomed, and now and then the gentle rain fell in silver drops that made every green thing on which they rested fresher and more beautiful still. At the foot of a stately oak nestled a clump of violets, and it was there the wee fairy made her home. She wore a... more...

An Old Story. Stephen Grattan had been a drunkard, and was now a reformed man. John Morely had been a drunkard, and was trying to reform. His father, though not a total abstainer, had lived and died a temperate man. But John Morely was not like his father. He had in him, the neighbours said, “the makings” of a better or a worse man than ever his father had been; and when, after his mother’s... more...

Chapter One. I hail from Deal, where my father was highly respected, not on account of his worldly wealth, for of that he had but small store, but because he was an honest, upright, God-fearing man, who did his duty to his neighbour, and ruled his family with discretion. And my mother—she was a mother!—so loving and gentle and considerate; she kept us, her children, of whom there were nine, I being... more...

The Wild Karroo. A solitary horseman—a youth in early manhood—riding at a snail’s pace over the great plains, or karroo, of South Africa. His chin on his breast; his hands in the pockets of an old shooting-coat; his legs in ragged trousers, and his feet in worn-out boots. Regardless of stirrups, the last are dangling. The reins hang on the neck of his steed, whose head may be said to dangle from... more...

Dethroned by Fire and Water—A Tale of the Southern Hemisphere. The Open Boat. Early one morning, in the year 18 hundred and something, the great Southern Ocean was in one of its calmest moods, insomuch that the cloudlets in the blue vault above were reflected with almost perfect fidelity in the blue hemisphere below, and it was barely possible to discern the dividing-line between water and sky. The... more...

“Boat on the weather bow, sir!” shouted the lookout on the top-gallant forecastle of the Young America. “Starboard!” replied Judson, the officer of the deck, as he discovered the boat, which was drifting into the track of the ship. “Starboard, sir!” responded the quartermaster in charge of the wheel. “Steady!” added the officer. “Steady, sir,” repeated the quartermaster. By this... more...

The Mackhai of Dun Roe. “Look here, Scoodrach, if you call me she again, I’ll kick you!” “I didna ca’ you she. I only said if she’d come ten the hoose aifter she had the parritch—” “Well, what did I say?” “Say? Why, she got in a passion.” Whop! Flop! The sound of a back-handed slap in the chest, followed by a kick, both delivered by Kenneth Mackhai, the recipient being a... more...

THE SEA DREAM. Three years ago last August, it is unnecessary to specify the exact date, Teddy Wright was not only a very lonely fellow, but considered himself abused by circumstances. During the previous season he had studied very hard at the military school on the Hudson which he often referred to slightingly as "the barracks," and as a reward for the flattering reports sent home by his... more...

A Romance of Old Albion. Opens with Leave-Taking. Nearly two thousand seven hundred years ago—or somewhere about eight hundred years B.C.—there dwelt a Phoenician sea-captain in one of the eastern sea-ports of Greece—known at that period, or soon after, as Hellas. This captain was solid, square, bronzed, bluff, and resolute, as all sea-captains are—or ought to be—whether ancient or modern. He... 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... more...