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One pleasant morning, very early in the spring, Rollo's cousin Lucy came to call for Rollo to go on an expedition, which they had planned the day before. It was near the end of March, and the snow had become so consolidated by the warm sun in the days, and the hard frosts at night, that it would bear the children to walk upon it. The children called it the crust; but it was not, strictly speaking,... more...

CHAPTER I. DORA AND HER MOTHER. Poor little Dora Deane! How utterly wretched and desolate she was, as she crouched before the scanty fire, and tried to warm the little bit of worn-out flannel, with which to wrap her mother's feet; and how hard she tried to force back the tears which would burst forth afresh whenever she looked upon that pale, sick mother, and thought how soon she would be gone! It... more...

by: Various
AN AMERICAN IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS. Having in a former number of this magazine attempted to give some account of the House of Commons, and to present some sketches of its leading members, I now design to introduce my readers to the House of Lords. Atlantic Monthly for December, 1861. It is obviously unnecessary to repeat so much of the previous description as applies to the general external and internal... more...

INTRODUCTION TO THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR THE Author, on a former occasion, declined giving the real source from which he drew the tragic subject of this history, because, though occurring at a distant period, it might possibly be unpleasing to the feelings of the descendants of the parties. But as he finds an account of the circumstances given in the Notes to Law's Memorials, by his ingenious... more...

MAY 3, 1890. No. X.—TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE.Once more we draw upon our favourite source of inspiration—the poems of the Misses Taylor. The dramatist is serenely confident that the new London County Council Censor of Plays, whenever that much-desired official is appointed, will highly approve of this little piece on account of the multiplicity of its morals. It is intended to teach, amongst other... more...

The chronicles which I am about to present to the reader are not the result of any conscious effort of the imagination. They are, as the title-page indicates, records of dreams, occurring at intervals during the last ten years, and transcribed, pretty nearly in the order of their occurrence, from my Diary. Written down as soon as possible after awaking from the slumber during which they presented... more...

CHAPTER I BROWNING IN EARLY LIFE On the subject of Browning's work innumerable things have been said and remain to be said; of his life, considered as a narrative of facts, there is little or nothing to say. It was a lucid and public and yet quiet life, which culminated in one great dramatic test of character, and then fell back again into this union of quietude and publicity. And yet, in spite of... more...

CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG MASTER OF PINE TOWERS. It was a May morning in 1825—spring-time of the year, late spring-time of the century. It had rained the night before, and a warm pallor in the eastern sky was the only indication that the sun was trying to pierce the gray dome of nearly opaque watery fog, lying low upon that part of the world now known as the city of Toronto, then the town of Little York.... more...

CHAPTER I. OF MY HOME, FRIENDS, AND SURROUNDINGS. Now that I am an old man, and have some leisure, which formerly I did not enjoy, I am often minded to write down my memories of that surprising and remarkable adventure of mine, which began in the year 1578, and came to an end, by God’s mercy, two years later. There are more reasons than one why I should engage in this task. Every Christmas brings a... more...

CHAPTER I THE MYSTERIOUS FOREIGNER “ Hello! Yes—I’m Maurice Wynn. Who are you?” “Harding. I’ve been ringing you up at intervals for hours. Carson’s ill, and you’re to relieve him. Come round for instructions to-night. Lord Southbourne will give them you himself. Eh? Yes, Whitehall Gardens. Ten-thirty, then. Right you are.” I replaced the receiver, and started hustling into my dress... more...