Toot! "What's the mischief?" cried the fireman. He sprung to his box and looked ahead, and in the center of the track, where the train ...

"'Pears to me, Marse Jack, you done gone been quiet long 'nuff dis spell," exclaimed Monday, Jack Harkaway's colored servant, as he ...

“Hurrah for Oregon! says I. That’s the place for Denny, and mesilf is the boy who is bound to have a good shlice av the fine lands, and ...

It wanted an hour or two of sunset on a lovely evening in the latter part of September, when a single horseman might have been seen ...

On a tributary of the Yellowstone River, and near to the Bighorn Mountains, there stood, at the time our story opens, a cabin. Though ...

When the train drew up at the small station of Leyton Ferrers, which it did in the slowest and most lazy of fashions, two persons got ...

"The sea, the sea, the open sea; The blue, the fresh, the ever free," chanted the fresh and delicious voice of a young girl walking ...

Beautiful Golden Glenalvan stood by the willow-bordered lake and looked into its azure depths with a dreamy light in her pansy-blue ...

"Jack-we-li-ner!" A girlish head, "running over with curls," lifted itself from the long orchard grass, and listened—the slender, ...

"Hear the mellow wedding bells— Golden bells! What a world of happiness Their melody foretells!" "Hark! there's the wedding march." ...

The clear ring of an ax was echoing through the arches of a forest, three-quarters of a century ago; and an athletic man was swinging ...

"That ar' log bobs 'round like the old sea-sarpint," muttered Ben Perkins to himself, leaning forward with his pole hook and trying to ...

Young Mrs. Fielding opened her dark, heavy-lidded eyes and gazed thoughtfully about the large, luxurious chamber, from which every ray ...

It was a cold night in early spring, and the West End streets were nearly deserted. The great shutters of the shops were being drawn ...

“You don’t want that boat, Wolf, any more than the lake wants water,” said my father, after I had read an advertisement, in the Ruoara ...

One summer’s evening a young man was tramping through the Forest of Warden. “Forest of Warden” sounds strange, old-fashioned, almost ...

It is a warm evening in early Summer; the sun is setting behind a long range of fir and yew-clad hills, at the feet of which twists in ...

Nobody ever goes to Portmaris; that is to say, nobody who is anybody. It lies—but no matter, ours shall not be the hand to ruin its ...

"She is coming—my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat Had it lain for a century dead." A ...

“Hers was the spell o’er hearts That only genius gives; The mother of the sister Arts, Where all their beauty lives.” —Varied from ...