CHAPTER I A GAME OF BASEBALL “Now for a home run, Jack!” “Soak it out over the bleachers!” “Show the Hixley boys what we can do!” “Give him a swift one, Dink! Don’t let him hit it!” “Oh, dear, I do hope Jack scores!” came in a sweet, girlish voice. “Of course he’ll score!” returned a youth sitting near the girl who had made the remark. “He’s been holding back for just... more...

My First Football Match. It was a proud moment in my existence when Wright, captain of our football club, came up to me in school one Friday and said, “Adams, your name is down to play in the match against Craven to-morrow.” I could have knighted him on the spot. To be one of the picked “fifteen,” whose glory it was to fight the battles of their school in the Great Close, had been the leading... more...

CHAPTER I THE ROVER BOYS AT HOME "All out for Oak Run!" shouted the brakeman of the train, as he thrust his head in through the doorway of the car. "Step lively, please!" "Hurrah for home!" shouted a curly-headed youth of sixteen, as he caught up a small dress-suit case. "Come on, Sam." "I'm coming, Tom," answered a boy a year younger. "Where is... more...

CHAPTER I A Last Bathe The warm, mellow September sunshine was streaming over the irregular roofs and twisted chimneys of the little town of Chagmouth, and was glinting on the water in the harbour, and sending gleaming, straggling, silver lines over the deep reflections of the shipping moored by the side of the jetty. The rising tide, lapping slowly and gently in from the ocean, was floating the boats... more...

THE VARMINT When young Stover disembarked at the Trenton station on the fourth day after the opening of the spring term he had acquired in his brief journey so much of the Pennsylvania rolling stock as could be detached and concealed. Inserted between his nether and outer shirts were two gilt "Directions to Travelers" which clung like mustard plasters to his back, while a jagged tin sign,... more...

CHAPTER I. SENT TO COVENTRY! The school was situated in the suburbs of the popular town of Merrifield, and was known as the Great Shirley School. It had been endowed some hundred years ago by a rich and eccentric individual who bore the name of Charles Shirley, but was now managed by a Board of Governors. By the express order of the founder, the governors were women; and very admirably did they fulfil... 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...

"Let us now praise famous men"—Men of little showing—For their work continueth,And their work continueth,Greater than their knowing. Western wind and open surgeTore us from our mothers;Flung us on a naked shore(Twelve bleak houses by the shore!Seven summers by the shore!)'Mid two hundred brothers. There we met with famous menSet in office o'er us.And they beat on us with... more...

Who shot the Dog? A shot! a yell! silence! Such, as soon as I could collect myself sufficiently to form an idea at all, were my midnight sensations as I sat up in my bed, with my chin on my knees, my hair on end, my body bedewed with cold perspiration, and my limbs trembling from the tips of my fingers to the points of my toes. I had been peacefully dreaming—something about an automatic machine into... more...

CHAPTER I. A NEW BOY. "What's your name?" "Diggory Trevanock." The whole class exploded. "Now, then," said Mr. Blake, looking up from his mark-book with a broad grin on his own face—"now, then, there's nothing to laugh at.—Look here," he added, turning to the new boy, "how d'you spell it?" Instead of being at all annoyed... more...