CHAPTER IOnceupon a time there was a little chimney-sweep, and his name was Tom. That is a short name, and you have heard it before, so you will not have much trouble in remembering it. He lived in a great town in the North country, where there were plenty of chimneys to sweep, and plenty of money for Tom to earn and his master to spend. He could not read nor write, and did not care to do either; and... more...

INTRODUCTORY.—NUMBER ONE. I would that it were possible so to tell a story that a reader should beforehand know every detail of it up to a certain point, or be so circumstanced that he might be supposed to know. In telling the little novelettes of our life, we commence our narrations with the presumption that these details are borne in mind, and though they be all forgotten, the stories come out... more...

INTRODUCTION* Exactly a year after the production of Lady Inger of Ostrat—that is to say on the "Foundation Day" of the Bergen Theatre, January 2, 1866—The Feast at Solhoug was produced. The poet himself has written its history in full in the Preface to the second edition. The only comment that need be made upon his rejoinder to his critics has been made, with perfect fairness as it seems... more...

CHAPTER I OUT FOR BUSINESS "Look! What does that mean, Tom?" "It means that fellow wants to ruin the Yankee plane, and perhaps finish the flier who went down with it to the ground." "Not if we can prevent it, I say. Take a nosedive, Tom, and leave it to me to manage the gun!" "He isn't alone, Jack, for I saw a second skulker in the brush,I'm sure."... more...

CHAPTER I. "A speck in the Northern Ocean, with a rocky coast, an ungenial climate, and a soil scarcely fruitful,—this was the material patrimony which descended to the English race—an inheritance that would have been little worth but for the inestimable moral gift that accompanied it. Yes; from Celts, Saxons, Danes, Normans—from some or all of them—have come down with English nationality a... more...

CHAPTER I. SOME STORIES OF BRITISH HISTORY TOLD FROM ENGLISH WORDS. Nearly all children must remember times when a word they know quite well and use often has suddenly seemed very strange to them. Perhaps they began repeating the word half to themselves again and again, and wondered why they had never noticed before what a queer word it is. Then generally they have forgotten all about it, and the next... more...

HOW PILLINGSHOT SCORED Pillingshot was annoyed. He was disgusted, mortified; no other word for it. He had no objection, of course, to Mr Mellish saying that his work during the term, and especially his Livy, had been disgraceful. A master has the right to say that sort of thing if he likes. It is one of the perquisites of the position. But when he went on to observe, without a touch of shame, that... more...

PREFACE Believing plays to be solely for the stage, I have never before allowed any of mine to be printed until they had first faced from a stage the judgment of an audience, to see if they were entitled to be called plays at all. A successful production also has been sometimes a moral support to me when some critic has said, as for instance of "A Night at an Inn," that though it reads passably... more...

THE TURN OF THE ROAD. Mrs. Granahan.Is that the whole of them now Ellen?Ellen.Yes that's all now but one.She goes across to grandfather and lifts the plate.Have you finished granda?Grandfather.Yes dearie I have done.He pauses and fumbles for his pipe, &c.Is'nt that a fiddle I'm hearing?Ellen.Yes. Robbie's playing the fiddle in the low room. Mrs. Granahan.Arranging plates on... more...

THE HOSTING OF THE SIDHEThe host is riding from KnocknareaAnd over the grave of Clooth-na-bare;Caolte tossing his burning hairAnd Niamh callingAway, come away: Empty your heart of its mortal dream. The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round, Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound, Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are a-gleam, Our arms are waving, our lips are apart; And if any gaze on our rushing... more...