CHAPTER I. "A fair day's business. A very fair day's business," said Leonard Jasper, as he closed a small account-book, over which he had been poring, pencil in hand, for some ten minutes. The tone in which he spoke expressed more than ordinary gratification. "To what do the sales amount?" asked a young man, clerk to the dealer, approaching his principal as he spoke. "To... more...

I. SUCCESS. [Published in "A Masque of Poets"at the request of "H.H.," the author'sfellow-townswoman and friend.] Success is counted sweetestBy those who ne'er succeed.To comprehend a nectarRequires sorest need. Not one of all the purple hostWho took the flag to-dayCan tell the definition,So clear, of victory, As he, defeated, dying,On whose forbidden earThe distant strains of... more...

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AMONG THE HILLS There were three at the breakfast-table—Mr. Newthorpe, his daughter Annabel, and their visitor (Annabel's Cousin), Miss Paula Tyrrell. It was a small, low, soberly-furnished room, the walls covered with carelessly-hung etchings and water-colours, and with photographs which were doubtless mementoes of travel; dwarf bookcases held overflowings from the library; volumes in disorder,... more...

On Board the “Kestrel.” Morning on board the Kestrel, his Britannic majesty’s cutter, lying on and off the south coast on the lookout for larks, or what were to her the dainty little birds that the little falcon, her namesake, would pick up. For the Kestrel’s wings were widespread to the soft south-easterly breeze that barely rippled the water; and mainsail, gaff topsail, staysail, and jib were... more...

CHAPTER I Early Days In The Colony In the month of September, 1892, Lord Percy Douglas (now Lord Douglas of Hawick) and I, found ourselves steaming into King George's Sound—that magnificent harbour on the south-west coast of Western Australia—building castles in the air, discussing our prospects, and making rapid and vast imaginary fortunes in the gold-mines of that newly-discovered land of... more...

I, Q. K. P. Doesticks, of No Hall, Nowhere; No Castle, no Villa, no Place, Court, or Terrace; Who didn’t write “Junius,” or “Nothing to Wear,” Who never have visited London or Paris; Who am not a phantom, a myth, or a mystery, But a “homo,” as solid as any of history; As real as Antony, Cæsar, or Brutus,— A wide-awake Yankee, so “tarnation ’cute” as To always write Nothings,... more...

CENTURION'S STORY I am an old man now; the burden of fourscore years is resting upon me. But the events of a certain April day in the year 783 A.U.C.—full half a century ago—are as fresh in my memory as if they had happened yesterday. At that time I was stationed with my Hundred on garrison duty at the Castle of Antonia, in Jerusalem. I had been ordered to take charge of the execution of a... more...

The nineteen tales and sketches, which are enclosed within the covers of this Book, relate to certain brown men and obscure things in a distant and very little known corner of the Earth. The Malay Peninsula—that slender tongue of land which projects into the tepid seas at the extreme south of the Asiatic Continent—is but little more than a name to most dwellers in Europe. But, even in the Peninsula... more...

CHAPTER ONE I Remember, I Remember "Boo, hoo! Ow, ow; Oh! oh! Me'll die. Boo, hoo. The pain, the pain!Boo, hoo!" "Come, come, now. Daddy's little mate isn't going to turn Turk like that, is she? I'll put some fat out of the dinner-bag on it, and tie it up in my hanky. Don't cry any more now. Hush, you must not cry! You'll make old Dart buck if you kick up a row... more...