BLTC Press Titles

available for Kindle at

Some Experiences of an Irish R. M.

Edith Somerville and Martin Ross

The Haunted Bookshop

Christopher Morely

The Secret Doctrine, Volume I Cosmogenesis

H. P. Blavatsky

The Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Thomas Carlyle, Rudolf Steiner


by Mrs. Henry S. Mackarness



" Our cradle is the starting-place,
In life we run the onward race,

And reach the goal.
When in the mansions of the hlest,
Death leaves to its eternal rest
The weary soul.

" Did we but use it as we ought,
This world would school each wand'ring thought

To its high state.

Faith wings the soul beyond the sky,
Up to that better world on high,

For which we wait."—Longfellow.

" Oh ! Master Cyril, now you really are a bad boy! my nice clean little saucepan you've been and put all that nasty filth in; and look at your jacket, what will your Ma say ?"

" Hush—nonsense—what a fuss about nothing! your saucepan will clean—my jacket will brush— so don't make such a noise: don't touch it, I'm going to pour it away directly."


" Why, good gracious! it's glue—I shall never get it out. I won't stop in the place, I declare, to be worrited so: you're for ever at mischief."

" Pooh! nonsense, woman, it's only gum; it will all come clean—do not make such a noise; you're the most ill-tempered cook I ever saw."

" None of your imperence, sir, 'cause I won't stand that,—give me the saucepan directly." But no! Master Cyril held it tightly, and a sharp struggle ensued, and the young gentleman's temper was fast rising, when a fresh arrival in the kitchen induced cook to resign her hold of the saucepan, and turn for redress to the new comer. She was an elderly person, of a meek and gentle demeanour, dressed in a brown stuff gown, and white handkerchief crossed over her bosom, and fastened by a small old-fashioned brooch, containing some very fair hair. Her cap and apron were also of most scrupulous whiteness, and some Holland cuffs reaching nearly to her elbows covered her sleeves.

" I'm glad you've come, nurse," exclaimed the infuriated cook, " I'm glad you've come; perhaps you'll be good enough to take your young gentleman out of my kitchen; and if ever he comes into it again I walks out of it for good, that's all." "Oh! dear," said nurse,in the gentlest tone,strangely contrasting with the noisy vulgar voice of the other servant, "oh! dear, Master Cyril, what is the matterf"

" Matter! nothing, you dear old thing; but a horrid piece of work cook's making, because I've melted some glue in here; now it won't hurt it, will it, dear ?"

" Well, I think not if it's cleaned immediately, cook;" answered nurse in her accustomed, quiet, and particularly encouraging voice; " but you must have a saucepan of your own, my dear, and not take cook's,—it certainly is very inconvenient for you not to have one of your own; we must see about it when we go out. But a little hot water poured on the glue in a cup would have been the best way to melt it, my dear; but how could he know, poor lamb ?" she continued, laying her wrinkled hand on his fair curly hair, and looking fondly in his face.

" Now, my dear, suppose you go up in my room, and when I've cleaned the saucepan I'll come to you: I've something to show you—that I have."

" Oh! have you—show me now; where is it ? in your pocket?" and he began hastily to cram both his hands in the old dame's capacious pocket.

" No, no, my dear," she said, gently disengaging herself from his violent grasp; " in my room; you go and I'll soon come—do, dear," she said, more earnestly, as cook, who had been all this time muttering to herself about "spoilt children," seemed inclined to burst out again.

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