Children of the lighthouse

“Yes-ery, I-ery will-ery!” answered Lesley, jumping up from the sand and tucking her book in a cleft of the rocks. Scrambling up the cliff like a sturdy little mountain goat, sh...

“Yes, I see you come all right,” smiled Stumpy, “but I no speak your tongue. You go in my house; I be there pretty soon.... Aye, aye, sir, coming!”--this to McLean, who waited f...

To reach the Lighthouse from Stumpy’s dwelling, you might either follow Jenny Lind’s car-track a long way around, or scramble up a rocky path, broken here and there by a flight...

Jim Crow, the black, the glossy, the dapper, the wise, the solemn, was not a native of the Lighthouse island, which indeed was too barren a spot for birds fond of good things to...

It was but a short time after the adventure with that highway and byway robber, Master Crow, when it came time for Stumpy’s annual vacation, and he puffed gloriously away in the...

When Stumpy had gone, Ronald wandered off among the rocks looking for sea-birds’ eggs for his collection, and Lesley strolled along the shore picking up shining shells and telli...

It was indeed one of the “best-est,” if not the _very_ bestest fire that ever was seen, for it was built of driftwood from some old copper-bottomed wreck and the flickering flam...

It was not long after Ronald’s sleep-walking adventure when the faithful Stumpy was stricken with a sharp rheumatic attack that made it necessary for him to come up to the Light...

Many seemingly uneventful weeks slipped by after Stumpy’s recovery and return to the storehouse, but you may be sure that they were far from uneventful to the folk of the island...