CHAPTER I "Climb up in this tree, and play house!" Elizabeth Ferguson commanded. She herself had climbed to the lowest branch of an apple-tree in the Maitland orchard, and sat there, swinging her white-stockinged legs so recklessly that the three children whom she had summoned to her side, backed away for safety. "If you don't," she said, looking down at them, "I'm afraid,... more...

The Baa-Sheep and the Lion. A baa-sheep was lying under the paw of a black-maned lion. Whatever was going to be done had to be done quickly. A thought flashed upon the sheep and he said: "Most dread lord and master, I have heard your voice extolled beyond that of all others. Will you not sing me a little selection from Wagner before I die?" The lion, touched in his vanity, immediately started... more...

PREFACE There is a chain of little lakes—a necklace of lost jewels—lying in the forest that clothes the blue Laurentian Mountains in the Province of Quebec. Each of these hidden lakes has its own character and therefore its own charm. One is bright and friendly, with wooded hills around it, and silver beaches, and red berries of the rowan-tree fringing the shores. Another is sombre and lonely, set... more...

THE LETTERS OF ROBERT BROWNING 1845-1846 New Cross, Hatcham, Surrey.[Post-mark, January 10, 1845.] I love your verses with all my heart, dear Miss Barrett,—and this is no off-hand complimentary letter that I shall write,—whatever else, no prompt matter-of-course recognition of your genius, and there a graceful and natural end of the thing. Since the day last week when I first read your poems, I... more...

Preface. This is not a story which requires much preface. The tale speaks for itself. But it is only right to inform the reader, that the persons who play their parts in it (apart from the historical details given) are all fictitious, excepting John Laurence and Agnes Stone. It rests, under God, with the men and women of England—and chiefly with those of them who are young now—whether such events... more...

BED IN SUMMER In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer, quite the other way,— I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people’s feet Still going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by... more...

TESTIMONIALS. A true story plainly told, of immense historical value and fascinating interest from beginning to end. Dr. Geo. W. Crofts,    Beatrice, Nebraska. I have read every word of "In the Early Days," written by Mr. Gilbert L. Cole, with great interest and profit. The language is well chosen, the word-pictures are vivid, and the subject-matter is of historic value. The story is... more...

The Cross of Pearls. ethsemane, how oft, grown dim,With bleeding hearts, unpardoned sin,A Cross with pearls, and gems inlaid,God's gift of love, the price prepaid. These precious pearls were once a tear,Repentant sighs, a hope, a fear,But rough seas washed and jewels grewUntil the Cross was pearly hue. Unnumbered are the pearls and fair,If burdens of the weary share;And deeply wrought with threads... more...

II. THE VALUE OF ROWLEY'S POEMS—PHILOLOGICAL AND LITERARY As imitations of fifteenth-century composition it must be confessed the Rowley poems have very little value. Of Chatterton's method of antiquating something has already been said. He made himself an antique lexicon out of the glossary to Speght's Chaucer, and such words as were marked with a capital O, standing for... more...

THE COCKATOO'S STORY. begin to be ashamed of myself—I really do," said a white cockatoo, as he sat on his perch one day. Then he gave himself a good shake, and after walking up and down once or twice, he continued, "I think it vexes the boy, and I can see he means to be kind. And, oh dear, dear! I see now I brought the troubles on myself." "Kind!" screamed a small gray parrot... more...