CHAPTER I BOYHOOD IN IRELAND The world in which I first found myself was a world of hungry people. My earliest sufferings were the sufferings of hunger—physical hunger. It was not an unusual sight to see the children of our neighbourhood scratching the offal in the dunghills and the gutterways for scraps of meat, vegetables, and refuse. Many times I have done it myself. My father was a shoemaker; but... more...

THESE are troubled times. As the echoes of the war die away the sound of a new conflict rises on our ears. All the world is filled with industrial unrest. Strike follows upon strike. A world that has known five years of fighting has lost its taste for the honest drudgery of work. Cincinnatus will not back to his plow, or, at the best, stands sullenly between his plow-handles arguing for a higher wage.... more...

Preface. The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic’s is a story of public-school life, and was written for the Boy’s Own Paper, in the Fourth Volume of which it appeared. The numbers containing it are now either entirely out of print or difficult to obtain; and many and urgent have been the requests—from boys themselves, as well as from parents, head masters, and others—for its re-issue as a book. Of the... more...

RENEWAL REGISTRATIONS A list of books, pamphlets, serials, and contributions to periodicals for which renewal registrations were made during the period covered by this issue. Arrangement is alphabetical under the name of the author or issuing body or, in the case of serials and certain other works, by title. Information relating to both the original and the renewal registration is included in each... more...

CHAPTER IONCE upon a time there were a King and a Queen who were very unhappy because they had no children. Everything else that the heart could wish for was theirs. They were rich; they lived in a wonderful palace full of the costliest treasures; theirkingdom was at peace, and their people were prosperous. Yet none of these things contented them, because they wanted a little child of their own to love... more...

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ROB'S NAVY. BY W. O. STODDARD. The tide was just out on the Staten Island shore, and the water in the little cove below Mr. Drake's residence was as smooth as a pan of milk with the cream on. Nothing in the shape of a ship ought to have tipped over in such water as that. So Rob Drake had thought, but every time he shoved his new ship away from the flat rock at the head of the cove, over she... more...

HOW TO THROW OFF AN ARTICLE. "Do you really write?" said Sylvia, gazing at me large-eyed with wonder. I admitted as much. "And do they print it just as you write it?" "Well, their hired grammarians make a few trifling alterations to justify their existence." "And do they pay you quite a lot?" "Sixpence a word." "Oo! How wonderful!" "But not for every... more...

Donald Morrison, whose wife has lately been called away, dying in his Highland Manse, his Children left destitute, are taken care of by their old nurse.—She conveys them to a sea-side town, where she takes up her abode with them in a small attic, and labours for their maintenance, while she places the two boys, Donald and David, at school.—Her anxiety about the education of Margaret. In his... more...

Preface. When Florence Nightingale began her great work in the hospital wards at Scutari in 1854, she little realised how far-reaching would be the effect of her noble self-sacrificing efforts. Could she to-day visit the war-stricken countries of Europe she would be astonished at the great developments of the work of caring for the wounded soldiers which she inaugurated so long ago. Her fine example is... more...