I MOTHER CAREY HERSELF "By and by there came along a flock of petrels, who are Mother Carey's own chickens…. They flitted along like a flock of swallows, hopping and skipping from wave to wave, lifting their little feet behind them so daintily that Tom fell in love with them at once." Nancy stopped reading and laid down the copy of "Water Babies" on the sitting-room table.... more...

PART FIRST I The third act of L'Africaine had just come to a close. The minister, on leaving the manager's box, said smilingly, like a man glad to be rid of the cares of State: "Let us go to the greenroom, Granet, shall we?" "Let us go to the greenroom, as your Excellency proposes!" They were obliged to cross the immense stage where the stage carpenters were busy with the... more...

BESIDE STILL WATERS I The Family—The Scene—The Church—Childhood—Books Hugh Neville was fond of tender and minute retrospect, and often indulged himself, in lonely hours, with the meditative pleasures of memory. To look back into the old years was to him like gazing into a misty place, with sudden and bright glimpses, and then the cloud closed in again; but it was not only with his own life that... more...

THE SKELETON ON ROUND ISLAND I am to carry Mamselle Rosalin of Green Bay from Mackinac to Cheboygan that time, and it is the end of March, and the wind have turn from east to west in the morning. A man will go out with the wind in the east, to haul wood from Boblo, or cut a hole to fish, and by night he cannot get home—ice, it is rotten; it goes to pieces quick when the March wind turns. I am not... more...

Andrew J. Blackbird, the author of this little book, is an educated Indian, son of the Ottawa Chief. His Indian name is Mack-aw-de-be-nessy (Black Hawk), but he generally goes by the name of "Blackbird," taken from the interpretation of the French "L'Oiseau noir." Mr. Blackbird's wife is an educated and intelligent white woman of English descent, and they have four children.... more...

What am I? In my flesh I am but equal to the beasts of the field. In my heart and mind I am corrupt Humanity. In my soul I know not what I am or may be, and therein lies my hope. O wonderful and mysterious soul, more fragile than gossamer and yet so strong that she may stand in the Presence of God and not perish! "Though ye have lien among the pots, yet shall ye be as the wings of a... more...

INTRODUCES MY HERO If you will carefully observe any map of the world that is divided into inches at so many miles to the inch, you will be surprised as you calculate the distance between that enchanting Paris of France and the third-precinct police-station of Washington, D. C, which is not enchanting. It is several thousand miles. Again, if you will take the pains to run your glance, no doubt... more...

A WINTER DAY. The cock, warm roosting 'midst his feather'd dames,Now lifts his beak and snuffs the morning air,Stretches his neck and claps his heavy wings,Gives three hoarse crows, and glad his talk is done;Low, chuckling, turns himself upon the roost,Then nestles down again amongst his mates.The lab'ring hind, who on his bed of straw,Beneath his home-made coverings, coarse, but... more...

ON THE USE OF THE HOUR-GLASS IN PULPITS. George Herbert says: "The parson exceeds not an hour in preaching, because all ages have thought that a competency."—A Priest to the Temple, p. 28. Ferrarius, De Ritu Concion., lib. i. c. 34., makes the following statement: "Huic igitur certo ac communi malo (the evil of too long sermons) ut medicinam facerent, Ecclesiæ patres in concionando... more...

Prehistoric Man. This is a story about things that happened ages and ages ago, before any of us were born, or our great-great-grandfathers either, for that matter. It was so very long ago that there were no houses, or farms, or roads from one place to another, and there was not a single city, or a town, or even a village in the whole earth. There was just the great, round world, all fresh and new, and... more...