THE BLUEBIRD It is sure to be a bright March morning when you first hear the bluebird's note; and it is as if the milder influences up above had found a voice and let a word fall upon your ear, so tender is it and so prophetic, a hope tinged with a regret. There never was a happier or more devoted husband than the male bluebird. He is the gay champion and escort of the female at all times, and... more...

CHAPTER I.—EXILES, OLD AND NEW. “O what have we ta’en?” said the fisher-prince,   “What have we ta’en this morning’s tide? Get thee down to the wave, my carl,   And row me the net to the meadow’s-side.” In he waded, the fisher-carl,   And “Here,” quoth he, “is a wondrous thing! A cradle, prince, and a fair man-child,   Goodly to see as the son of a king!” The... more...

MEMOIR OF SIR HENRY YULE. Henry Yule was the youngest son of Major William Yule, by his first wife, Elizabeth Paterson, and was born at Inveresk, in Midlothian, on 1st May, 1820. He was named after an aunt who, like Miss Ferrier's immortal heroine, owned a man's name. On his father's side he came of a hardy agricultural stock,[1] improved by a graft from that highly-cultured tree, Rose... more...

THE THIRD VOYAGE Columbus was at sea again; firm ground to him, although so treacherous and unstable to most of us; and as he saw the Spanish coast sinking down on the horizon he could shake himself free from his troubles, and feel that once more he was in a situation of which he was master. He first touched at Porto Santo, where, if the story of his residence there be true, there must have been potent... more...

I On Thursday, the 9th of July, 186-, Jean Bertaud and his son, well known at Orcival as living by poaching and marauding, rose at three o'clock in the morning, just at daybreak, to go fishing. Taking their tackle, they descended the charming pathway, shaded by acacias, which you see from the station at Evry, and which leads from the burg of Orcival to the Seine. They made their way to their boat,... more...

CHAPTER I OTAHEITE The gentle island, and the genial soil,The friendly hearts, the feasts without a toil,The courteous manners but from nature caught,The wealth unhoarded, and the love unbougnt, The bread-tree, which, without the ploughshare, yieldsThe unreap'd harvest of unfurrow'd fields,And bakes its unadulterated loavesWithout a furnace in unpurchased groves,And flings off famine from its... more...

CHAPTER I THE NINTH GENERATION The house was very silent. An odour of disinfectants pervaded the atmosphere. Upstairs hushed, swift steps moved to and fro. Hugh Vallincourt stood at the window of his study, staring out with unseeing eyes at the smooth, shaven lawns and well-kept paths with their background of leafless trees. It seemed to him that he had been standing thus for hours, waiting—waiting... more...

WARWICK AND COVENTRY. OBLIQUE GABLES IN WARWICK.The history of England is written in living characters in the provincial towns of the kingdom; and it is this which gives such interest to places which have been surpassed commercially by great manufacturing centres and overshadowed socially by the attractions of London. The local nobility once held state little less than royal in houses whose beautiful... more...

I. VISIBLE AND INVISIBLE. Here is an image by which you may call up and remember the natural form and appearance of Ireland: Think of the sea gradually rising around her coasts, until the waters, deepened everywhere by a hundred fathoms, close in upon the land. Of all Ireland there will now remain visible above the waves only two great armies of islands, facing each other obliquely across a channel of... more...

CLOTHING: ITS RAPID DETERIORATION, AND DEVICES TO REPLENISH IT—DESPERATE EFFORTS TO COVER NAKEDNESS—"LITTLE RED CAP" AND HIS LETTER. Clothing had now become an object of real solicitude to us older prisoners. The veterans of our crowd—the surviving remnant of those captured at Gettysburg—had been prisoners over a year. The next in seniority—the Chickamauga boys—had been in ten... more...