The Silver Skull by S. R. Crockett

The Silver Skull by S. R. Crockett

” For a good Scotch story, faithful to locality and quaint neighborhoods, in its every particular, commend us to S. R. Crockett.”

This is one of a number of swashbuckling historical novels written by a Scottish author popular in the 1890s.


The Gray Man by S. R. Crockett


The Gray Man by S. R. Crockett

A great adventure a story based on the historical feud of the Kennedys in 16th century Ayrshire. Mixing in the myth of the cannibal Sawney Bean. The language is mostly lowland Scots, and is a real delight.

This is a deeply funny book with an affectionately-portrayed narrator, a young boy, Launcelot Kennedy, who dreams of becoming a knight like his namesake. The chapter headings are delicious, entitled ‘The Adventure of the Garden’ and ‘The Murder Among the Sandhills’ and the like; as such the story is reminiscent of the thrilling adventure stories of the period written by the likes of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Jules Verne.

Tales of Our Coast by S. R. Crockett

Tales of Our Coast

This is a collection of sea stories about our coast lines of the USA.

This book was originally published in 1896 by Dodd & Mead. It has several authors. Crockett’s story is : The Smugglers of the Clone- Harold Frederic- There is Sorrow on the Sea.- Gilbert Parker- The Path of Murtogh. W. Clark Russell- The Roll-Call of the Deep. Q- That There Mason.

Red-Cap Adventures by S. R. Crockett

Red cap adventures by S. R. Crockett

Written to introduce children to the works of Sir Walter Scott, both volumes bear the sub-title “Stolen from the Treasure Chest of the Wizard of the North”. Stories include episodes from Waverley, Guy Mannering, Rob Roy, The Antiquary, Ivanhoe, The Fortunes of Nigel, Quentin Durward & The Pirate.

“ In this simple recounting of adventures there lurks a really high art, and not a little humor. Mr. Crockett is aiming to bring home to his critical small audience the liveliness, the excitement, the breathless adventuresomeness, of these great novels. He is luring his hearers on to read for them-selves. He tells them enough about the people and the events to make them hurry to the books to fill out details.” — Churchman.

Me and Myn by S. R. Crockett

Me and Myn by S. R. Crockett

A novel concerned with stamp-collecting, written for serialisation in a Stanley Gibbons magazine.

This was a good while ago, you know, before many people made collections of stamps, and when the boy who collected crests or hair-oil bottle capsules was thought just as much of a scientist as Phillips—or even Me and Myn.
But now I must tell you who we are, Myn and I. We called ourselves “Me and Myn,” because— well, I won’t tell you that just yet, but it wasn’t because we couldn’t speak grammatically. For Myn took the first prize in Grammar in the Sixth at Old Currycomb’s, which would have been mine if I hadn’t let her. I got second, though.

Hal O’ the Ironsides Ironsides by S. R. Crockett

Hal o' the Ironsides by S. R. Crockett

A Story of the Days of Cromwell.
Story of the dogs wo war between the Cavalier and the Roundheads in England.

Crockett’s last story. A rip-roaring tale of the days of the great Oliver— days when the dogs of war were let loose in English meadows, when the unbeatable Ironsides invoked the spirit of the God of battles, and “the gallant of England struck home for the King.” Crockett draws a splendid portrait of Cromwell, and depicts the stirring scenes of the struggle between Cavalier and Roundhead, with all the skill of an experienced and accomplished literary craftsman.

Ione March by S. R. Crockett

Ione March by S. R. Crockett

Portions of this story appeared in “ The Woman at Home” under the title of “ The Woman of Fortune ”

The author was a well-known writer of the ”Kailyard” style in his day.

IT was an off day, yet Keith Harford was awake betimes in the tiny hostel on the Wengern Alp, held (as the sign stated plainly) against all comers by Johann Jossi. Keith awoke because he missed something. He turned restlessly in the little Swiss bed of five foot six inches in extreme length, over the terminal bar of which his feet projected like the “trams” of a wheelbarrow. The young man was wakeful from unaccustomed comfort. He had indeed taken his knapsack to bed with him, which, in addition to a spirit lamp and appurtenances, contained a camera built with knobs and acute angles particularly inimical to luxury. He had also entrenched himself behind half a dozen books and a field-glass covered in rusty leather.