A Flight with the Swallows; Or, Little Dorothy's Dream — Story, Setting & Ideas

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In Category - Childrens Adventures

Authors: Marshall, Emma, 1830-1899 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2011 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction; Girls -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Mothers and daughters -- Juvenile fiction Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 24,858

Reading time 109 min

Text sections 4

This digital edition of A Flight with the Swallows; Or, Little Dorothy's Dream — Story, Setting & Ideas is described by source-level measurements including 24,858 words, 1 hr 49 min estimated reading time, and 4 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 20.0 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Christian life -- Juvenile fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #35455

Emma Marshall's children's novel follows only child Dorothy, whose dream of flying with swallows leads to a journey from Coldchester to Italy. The narrative contrasts solitary imagination with the challenges of companionship, using precise domestic details and recurring swallow imagery.

Editorial Edition Score 4.6/5

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Title & short description10 pts
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Text length15 pts
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Edition quality

File: pg35455

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In a deep window seat, hidden by crimson curtains from the room beyond, a little girl was curled up, looking out upon a trim garden, where the first autumn leaves were falling one September afternoon. The view was bounded by a high wall, and above the wall, the east end of Coldchester Cathedral stood up a dark mass against the pale-blue sky. Every now and then a swallow darted past the window, with its forked tail and whitish breast; then there was a twittering and chirping in the nests above, as the swallows talked to each other of their coming flight. Little Dorothy was an only child; she had no brothers and sisters to play with; thus she made playmates of her two fluffy kittens, who were lying at her feet; and she made friends of the twittering swallows and the chattering jackdaws, as they flew in and out from the cathedral tower, and lived in a world of her own.

The position of an only child has its peculiar pleasures and privileges; but I am inclined to think that all little girls who have brothers and sisters to play with are more to be envied than little Dorothy. To be sure, there was no one to want Puff and Muff but herself; no one to dispute the ownership of Miss Belinda, her large doll; no one to say it was her turn to dust and tidy Barton Hall, the residence of Miss Belinda; no one to insist on his right to spin a top or snatch away the cup and ball just when the critical moment came, and the ball was at last going to alight on the cup.

Dorothy had none of these trials; but then she had none of the pleasures which go with them; for the pleasure of giving up your own way is in the long run greater than always getting it; and it is better to have a little quarrel, and then "make it up" with a kiss and confession of fault on both sides, than never to have any one to care about what _you_ care for, and no one to contradict you!

As little Dorothy watched the swallows, and listened to their conversation above her head, she became aware that some one was in the drawing-room, and was talking to her mother.

She was quite hidden from view, and she heard her name.

"But how can I take little Dorothy?"

"Easily enough. It will do her no harm to take flight with the swallows."

"You don't think _she_ is delicate?" she heard her mother exclaim, in a voice of alarm. "Oh, Doctor Bell, you don't think Dorothy is delicate?"

"No, she is very well as far as I see at present, but I think her life is perhaps rather too dreamy and self-absorbed. She wants companions; she wants variety."

Dr. Bell knew he was venturing on delicate ground.

"Dorothy is very happy," Mrs. Acheson said, "very happy. Just suppose San Remo does not suit her, does not agree with her; then think of the journey!"

"My dear madam, the journey is as easy in these days as if you could fly over on the backs of the swallows--easier, if anything. You ask my serious advice, and it is this, that you lose no time in starting for San Remo or Mentone."

"San Remo is best," said Mrs. Acheson, "for I have a friend who has a house there, and she will be there for the winter."

"Very well; then let me advise you to be quick in making your preparations. I shall call again this day week, and expect to find you are standing, like the swallows, ready for flight. Look at them now on the coping of the old wall, talking about their departure, and settling."

When Dr. Bell was gone, Mrs. Acheson sat quietly by the fire, thinking over what he had said. She had tried to persuade herself that her cough was better, that if she kept in the house all the winter it would go away. She had felt sure that in this comfortable room, out of which her bed-room opened, she must be as well as in Italy or the south of France. Dr. Bell was so determined to get his own way, and it was cruel to turn her out of her home. And then Dorothy, little Dorothy! how hard it would be for her to leave Puff and Muff, and her nursery, and everything in it. And what was to be done about Nino, the little white poodle, and----

A host of objections started up, and Mrs. Acheson tried to believe that she would make a stand against Dr. Bell, and stay in Canon's House all the winter.

Continue Reading →

The story opens with Dorothy curled in a window seat, hidden by crimson curtains, watching swallows dart past Coldchester Cathedral. Marshall immediately establishes a tension between the child's rich inner world and her isolation: Dorothy has no siblings, only kittens and dolls for playmates. The narrator directly intervenes to argue that having brothers and sisters is preferable, even with quarrels, to always getting one's own way. This editorial voice—sympathetic yet gently critical—shapes the book's moral framework.

When Dorothy overhears a doctor suggest she needs companions and variety, the metaphor of taking flight with the swallows is introduced. The excerpts show a child who resists joining group activities, preferring solitary meditation. Her obstinacy is rendered through specific gestures: curling up in a straw chair, playing a tattoo on the window, refusing a donkey ride despite pleas from Irene and Ella.

The Only Child's Predicament

Marshall devotes the opening chapter to examining Dorothy's position as an only child. The narrator lists advantages—no one disputes ownership of her doll Miss Belinda, no one snatches her cup and ball—but immediately counters that the pleasure of giving up one's way is greater than always getting it. This moral calculus is presented not as abstract preaching but through concrete domestic details: the doll's residence at Barton Hall, the precise moment when the ball might alight on the cup.

The doctor's diagnosis of Dorothy as too dreamy and self-absorbed is delivered in her hearing, hidden behind curtains. This eavesdropping scene establishes a pattern: Dorothy is often an observer, curled up, watching others. Her mother's alarmed question—'You don't think Dorothy is delicate?'—reveals parental anxiety. The narrative thus frames Dorothy's solitude as both a privilege and a problem, setting up the journey to Italy as a remedy.

Later, when Dorothy refuses to join the donkey ride, her obstinacy is described as 'a wonderful amount of obstinacy expressed in that pretty, fair little face.' Marshall balances sympathy with criticism, showing the child's willfulness without condemning her outright.

Swallows as Emblems of Movement and Change

The swallow is the book's central image, appearing in the title, the dream, and repeated observations. In the opening, Dorothy watches swallows with 'forked tail and whitish breast,' hearing their twittering as conversation about 'their coming flight.' The birds become her friends, companions in a world of her own making.

When Dorothy takes flight with the swallows—literally in her dream, figuratively in her journey—the birds persist as touchstones. In Italy, a swallow perches on an aloe outside the verandah, and Dorothy wonders if it is 'my old mother swallow.' The birds link England and Italy, dream and reality. Their restless movement—darting, twittering, wagging forked tails—contrasts with Dorothy's tendency to curl up and meditate.

Marshall uses the swallows to mark transitions. The autumn leaves falling in the first scene give way to Italian sunshine, yet the swallows remain constant. They are not merely decorative; they embody the tension between staying and going, between solitary observation and active participation.

Small Gestures, Large Meanings

Marshall builds character through minute physical details. Dorothy's refusal to join the donkey ride is conveyed not through dialogue alone but through a sequence of actions: she curls up in a circular straw chair, plays a tattoo on the window, and slowly uncurls her legs 'first one, then the other' before yawning. When she addresses the letter, she makes a great blot, writes a wide C that overshadows 'Canon,' and finds 'Percival' won't fit on the same line. These small failures of penmanship mirror her social awkwardness.

Other characters are sketched through similar details: Willy's roughness, Irene's pleading, Ella's backward kiss. Baby Bob's line—'I'll never take your letter no more, Dolly'—captures childish hurt in few words. The crimson spot on Dorothy's apron becomes a focus of distress, a tiny stain that looms large in her mind.

These details ground the moral lessons in tangible experience. The narrative does not tell us Dorothy is stubborn; it shows her refusing to put on the blue serge skirt, insisting she will wait for Ingleby. The reader sees the obstinacy in her posture and the set of her face.

Readers attentive to small gestures will find Marshall's craft in the spaces between events. The excerpts offer no resolution—Dorothy's journey is just beginning—but the patterns are set: the tension between solitude and companionship, the swallows as guides, the weight of a child's will. Approach the text as a study in moral development rendered through domestic realism, where a blot on a letter or a spot on an apron carries as much weight as a dream of flight.

Dorothy’s longing for the swallows made me think of quiet afternoons with my own books, and how a solitary child’s world can feel so full. That same tenderness for small creatures surfaces in Minnie's Pet Lamb — Reading Notes. Reading both, I felt a shared ache for those gentle, fleeting bonds we hold onto long after the pages close.