The Family Party. “Harry, my boy; another slice of beef?” said Major Shafto, addressing his fine young sailor-son, a passed midshipman, lately come home from sea. “No, thank you, since I could not, if I took it, pay due respect to the mince-pies and plum-pudding; but Willy here can manage another slice, I daresay. He has a notion, that he will have to feed for the future on ‘salt junk’ and... more...

Chapter One. H.M.S. “Seafowl.” “Dicky, dear boy, it’s my impression that we shall see no blackbird’s cage to-day.” “And it’s my impression, Frank Murray, that if you call me Dicky again I shall punch your head.” “Poor fellow! Liver, decidedly,” said the first speaker, in a mock sympathetic tone. “Look here, old chap, if I were you, I’d go and ask Jones to give me a blue pill,... more...

A Boy at Sea. Many many years ago seem like yesterday, and I hope it will always be the same. For, just to be serious for a moment, what is the full stretch of the oldest man’s life to time? Just one star-wink, if the astronomers are right about the passage of light, and that the glitter of stars that we see now are only the rays which started from them away there in space long before we were born.... more...

Murray’s Highland Home—A Visit from Admiral Triton—Adair and his Nephew appear—Murray appointed to the Opal, Adair First Lieutenant—Preparations for Departure—Admiral Triton and Mrs Deborah invite Mrs Murray to stay at Southsea—The Opal and her Crew—A Poetical Lieutenant—Parting between Miss Rogers and Adair—The Opal sails for the East Coast of Africa. Alick Murray had not... more...

Neil D’Arcy’s Life at Sea. My Ancestors—Larry Harrigan, and my Early Education—Choice of a Profession—First Start in Life. “The sea, the sea,” if not my mother, has been my nurse (and anything but a dry one) from the earliest days of my recollection. I was born within the sound of old ocean’s surges; I dabbled in salt water before I could run; and I have floated on salt water, and have... more...

Preface. This tale is the last from the pen of Captain Mayne Reid, whose stories have so long been the delight of English boys. Our readers may, perhaps, like to know something of the writer who has given them so much pleasure; especially as his own life was full of adventure and of brave deeds. Mayne Reid was born in the north of Ireland in 1819; his father was a Presbyterian minister, and wished that... more...

Preface The material in this small volume just barely scratches the surface of a problem which is becoming increasingly grave: the activities of Nazi agents in the United States, Mexico, and Central America. During the past five years I have observed some of them, watching the original, crudely organized and directed propaganda machine develop, grow and leave an influence far wider than most people... more...

Georgie and Maudie came home from school,And each had got a prize;They had worked very hard, and tried to be good,For they wanted to grow up wise.And now behold them jumping for joy,And clapping their hands with glee,Because Mamma has promised them--They shall stay for a month by the sea.   So Nurse was told to pack their things,And put their toys together;Whilst Mamma went out and bought new... more...

MAKING A FRIEND. Two lads were standing in one of the bastions of a fort looking over the sea. There were neither guards nor sentinels there. The guns stood on their carriages, looking clean and ready for action, but this was not the result of care and attention, but simply because in so dry a climate iron rusts but little. A close examination would have shown that the wooden carriages on which they... more...

The home of my ancestors. “The top of the morning to you, Terence,” cried the major, looking down upon me from the window of his bedroom. I was standing in front of the castle of Ballinahone—the seat of the O’Finnahans, my ancestors—on the banks of the beautiful Shannon, enjoying the fresh air of the early morning. “Send Larry up, will you, with a jug of warm water for shaving; and, while I... more...