Frederick Marryat was a popular 19th century novelist best known for pioneering the genre of sea stories and for writing other action and adventure books. An acquaintance of Charles Dickens, Marryat's books are still read today.
Frederick Marryat was a popular 19th century novelist best known for pioneering the genre of sea stories and for writing other action and adventure books. An acquaintance of Charles Dickens, Marryat's books are still read today.
In which Mrs Easy, as usual, has her own way.
It was the fourth day after Mrs Easy's confinement that Mr Easy, who was sitting by her bedside in an easy chair, commenced as follows: "I have been thinking, my dear Mrs Easy, about the name I shall give this child."
"Name, Mr Easy! why, what name should you give it but your own?"
"Not so, my dear," replied Mr Easy; "they call all names proper names, but I think that mine is not. It is the very worst name in the calendar."
"Why, what's the matter with it, Mr Easy?"
"The matter affects me as well as the boy. Nicodemus is a long name to write at full length, and Nick is vulgar. Besides, as there will be two Nicks, they will naturally call my boy young Nick, and of course I shall be styled old Nick, which will be diabolical."
"Well, Mr Easy, at all events then let me choose the name."
"That you shall, my dear, and it was with this view that I have mentioned the subject so early."
"I think, Mr Easy, I will call the boy after my poor father-his name shall be Robert."
"Very well, my dear, if you wish it, it shall be Robert. You shall have your own way. But I think, my dear, upon a little consideration, you will acknowledge that there is a decided objection."
"An objection Mr Easy?"
"Yes, my dear; Robert may be very well, but you must reflect upon the consequences; he is certain to be called Bob."
"Well, my dear, and suppose they do call him Bob?"
"I cannot bear even the supposition, my dear. You forget the county in which we are residing, the downs covered with sheep."
"Why, Mr Easy, what can sheep have to do with a Christian name?"
"There it is; women never look to consequences. My dear, they have a great deal to do with the name of Bob. I will appeal to any farmer in the county, if ninety-nine shepherds' dogs out of one hundred are not called Bob. Now observe, your child is out of doors somewhere in the fields or plantations; you want and you call him. Instead of your child, what do you find? Why, a dozen curs at least, who come running up to you, all answering to the name of Bob, and wagging their stumps of tails. You see, Mrs Easy, it is a dilemma not to be got over. You level your only son to the brute creation by giving him a Christian name which, from its peculiar brevity, has been monopolised by all the dogs in the county. Any other name you please, my dear, but in this one instance you must allow me to lay my positive veto."
"Well, then, let me see-but I'll think of it, Mr Easy; my head aches very much just now."
"I will think for you, my dear. What do you say to John?"
"O no, Mr Easy, such a common name."
"A proof of its popularity, my dear. It is scriptural-we have the Apostle and the Baptist-we have a dozen Popes who were all Johns. It is royal-we have plenty of kings who were Johns-and moreover, it is short, and sounds honest and manly."
"Yes, very true, my dear; but they will call him Jack." "Well, we have had several celebrated characters who were Jacks. There was-let me see-Jack the Giant Killer, and Jack of the Bean Stock-and Jack-Jack-"
"Jack Spratt," replied Mrs Easy. "And Jack Cade, Mrs Easy, the great rebel-and Three-fingered Jack, Mrs Easy, the celebrated negro-and, above all, Jack Falstaff, ma'am, Jack Falstaff-honest Jack Falstaff-witty Jack Falstaff-"
"I thought, Mr Easy, that I was to be permitted to choose the name."
"Well, so you shall, my dear; I give it up to you. Do just as you please; but depend upon it that John is the right name. Is it not now, my dear?"
"It's the way you always treat me, Mr Easy; you say that you give it up, and that I shall have my own way, but I never do have it. I am sure that the child will be christened John."
"Nay, my dear, it shall be just what you please. Now I recollect it, there were several Greek emperors who were Johns; but decide for yourself, my dear."
"No, no," replied Mrs Easy, who was ill, and unable to contend any longer, "I give it up, Mr Easy. I know how it will be, as it always is: you give me my own way as people give pieces of gold to children, it's their own money, but they must not spend it. Pray call him John."
"There, my dear, did not I tell you you would be of my opinion upon reflection? I knew you would. I have given you your own way, and you tell me to call him John; so now we're both of the same mind, and that point is settled."
"I should like to go to sleep, Mr Easy; I feel far from well."
"You shall always do just as you like, my dear," replied the husband, "and have your own way in everything. It is the greatest pleasure I have when I yield to your wishes. I will walk in the garden. Good-bye, my dear."
Mrs Easy made no reply, and the philosopher quitted the room. As may easily be imagined, on the following day the boy was christened John.
Including a famous chapter starring a werewolf, Captain Marryat's 1839 supernatural sea saga retells the legend of The Flying Dutchman. Philip Vanderdecken is on a maritime quest to rescue his cursed father. Wearing a relic of the Holy Cross, Philip has a chance to lift the curse—if he can find the doomed wanderer.
Frederick Marryat was a popular 19th century novelist best known for pioneering the genre of sea stories and for writing other action and adventure books. An acquaintance of Charles Dickens, Marryat's books are still read today.
Frederick Marryat was a popular 19th century novelist best known for pioneering the genre of sea stories and for writing other action and adventure books. An acquaintance of Charles Dickens, Marryat's books are still read today.
A classic tale of historical adventure to be enjoyed by children and adults alike, set against the turbulent background of the English Civil War, as well as a charming coming-of-age storyIt was in the month of November in this year that King Charles, accompanied by Sir John Berkely, Ashburnham, and Legg, made his escape from Hampton Court, and rode as fast as the horses could carry them toward that part of Hampshire which led to the New Forest . . . It is 1647. Charles I has been defeated in the civil war, but has escaped captivity and is making for France. Parliamentary soldiers searching the New Forest decide to burn the house of Colonel Beverly, a royalist officer killed at the Battle of Naseby. His four children are rescued by their father's gamekeeper, Jacob, who takes them in. The children gradually shed their aristocratic sensibilities and adapt to the simple ways of the forest, working Jacob's farmstead and befriending other inhabitants of the woodland. But when Charles II raises an army and the specter of war returns to haunt the Beverly children, they realize they cannot hide from their true identity.
For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"
Five years into marriage, Hannah caught Vincent slipping into a hotel with his first love-the woman he never forgot. The sight told her everything-he'd married her only for her resemblance to his true love. Hurt, she conned him into signing the divorce papers and, a month later, said, "Vincent, I'm done. May you two stay chained together." Red-eyed, he hugged her. "You came after me first." Her firm soon rocketed toward an IPO. At the launch, Vincent watched her clasp another man's hand. In the fitting room, he cornered her, tears burning in his eyes. "Is he really that perfect? Hannah, I'm sorry... marry me again."
Clara had to die once to see who truly surrounded her-traitors and opportunists everywhere. After her rebirth, she swore to make her enemies pay. Her fiancé mocked, "You think you deserve me?" She punched him and ended the engagement. Her stepsister played innocent, but Clara shut her down with a cold retort. "Stop pretending! I'm tired of your little act!" They called her a loser, but Clara didn't bother defending herself. Instead, she revealed her real power: superstar, racing champion, and secret mogul. When her masks fell, chaos erupted. Her ex begged, and the crime lord claimed her, but Clara had already conquered them all.
Kyra caressed her growing belly-she was finally pregnant with her best friend Nathan's child after three years of marriage. But when she returned home with the happy news, her Alpha husband was on his knees, begging her to end their bond. "Sophia is back," Nathan's voice raw with guilt. "My fated mate." Heartbroken, Kyra agreed to dissolve their union, hiding her pregnancy to avoid burdening him. Yet when she tried to leave, Nathan refused to let go. "Can't we at least stay friends?" She wrenched her wrist free. "You lost that right." Nathan didn't understand these feelings until Kyra was gone and then he knew this wasn't just friendship. This was love. And he'd fight to get her back. Then he appeared-Kieran, Kyra's stepbrother and the infamous Alpha from Raven Shadow Pack. He kept her captive, craving every inch of her. "We're siblings,"Kyra gasped. His teeth scraped the mating mark on her neck as he growled."'Not by blood.Run from him all you want, little wolf. But you belong to me now." Trapped between two impossible loves-where does Kyra truly belong?
Since she was ten, Noreen had been by Caiden's side, watching him rise from a young boy into a respected CEO. After two years of marriage, though, his visits home grew rare. Gossip among the wealthy said he despised her. Even his beloved mocked her hopes, and his circle treated her with scorn. People forgot about her decade of loyalty. She clung to memories and became a figure of ridicule, worn out from trying. They thought he'd won his freedom, but he dropped to his knees and begged, "Noreen, you're the only one I love." Leaving behind the divorce papers, she walked away.
Nadine reunited with her family, convinced she'd been discarded, rage simmering-only to find collapse: her mother unstable, her father poisoned; a pianist brother trapped in a sham marriage, a detective brother framed and jailed, the youngest dragged into a gang. While the fake daughter mocked and colluded, Nadine moved in secret-healing her mother, curing her father, ending the union, clearing charges, and lifting the youngest to leader. Rumors said she rode coattails, unworthy of Rhys, the unmatched magnate. Few knew she was a renowned healer, legendary assassin, mysterious tycoon... Rhys knelt. "Marry me! The entire empire is yours for the taking!"
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