"The Italian Twins" from Lucy Fitch Perkins. American children's book author and illustrator (1865-1937).

"The Japanese Twins" from Lucy Fitch Perkins. American children's book author and illustrator (1865-1937).

"The Mexican Twins" from Lucy Fitch Perkins. American children's book author and illustrator (1865-1937).

"The Puritan Twins" from Lucy Fitch Perkins. American children's book author and illustrator (1865-1937).

"The Scotch Twins" from Lucy Fitch Perkins. American children's book author and illustrator (1865-1937).

"The Spartan Twins" from Lucy Fitch Perkins. American children's book author and illustrator (1865-1937).

"The Swiss Twins" from Lucy Fitch Perkins. American children's book author and illustrator (1865-1937).

This is the true story of Menie and Monnie and their two little dogs, Nip and Tup. Menie and Monnie are twins, and they live far away in the North, near the very edge. They are five years old. Menie is the boy, and Monnie is the girl. But you cannot tell which is Menie and which is Monnie, -not even if you look ever so hard at their pictures That is because they dress alike. When they are a little way off even their own mother can't always tell. And if she can't, who can? Sometimes the twins almost get mixed up about it themselves. And then it is very hard to know which is Nip and which is...

One lovely spring morning long years ago in Hellas, Lydia, wife of Melas the Spartan, sat upon a stool in the court of her house, with her wool-basket beside her, spinning. She was a tall, strong-looking young woman with golden hair and blue eyes, and as she twirled her distaff and twisted the white wool between her fingers she sang a little song to herself that sounded like the humming of bees in a garden.

One bright warm noonday in May of the year 1638, Goodwife Pepperell opened the door of her little log cabin, and, screening her eyes from the sun with a toilworn hand, looked about in every direction, as if searching for some one. She was a tall, spare woman, with a firm mouth, keen blue eyes, and a look of patient endurance in her face, bred by the stern life of pioneer New England. Far away across the pasture which sloped southward from the cabin she could see long meadow grass waving in the breeze, and beyond a thread of blue water where the Charles River flowed lazily to the sea. Westward...