CHAPTER I THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER t was a beautiful summer morning when slowly I wheeled my way along the principal street of the village of Walford. A little valise was strapped in front of my bicycle; my coat, rolled into a small compass, was securely tied under the seat, and I was starting out to spend my vacation. I was the teacher of the village school, which useful institution had been closed for the season the day before, much to... more...

The first to describe a case of division of the parietal bone in apes was Johannes Ranke, in 1899. The skull in question is that of an adolescent female orang, one of 245 orang crania in the Selenka collection in the Munich Anthropological Institute. The abnormal suture divides the right parietal into an upper larger and a lower smaller portion. "The suture runs nearly parallel with the sagittal suture," but, as the illustration shows (), it... more...

A REJECTED MANUSCRIPT. "A letter for Mr. Roseleaf," he heard his landlady say to the chambermaid. And he was quite prepared to hear the girl reply, in a tone of surprise: "For Mr. Roseleaf! This is the first letter he has had since he came." The young man referred to stood just within his chamber door, waiting with some anxiety for the letter to be brought to him. He was about twenty years of age, of medium height, with rather dark complexion,... more...

We have before us a volume of autograph letters, chiefly of soldiers and statesmen of the Revolution, and addressed to a good and brave man, General Palmer, who himself drew his sword in the cause. They are profitable reading in a quiet afternoon, and in a mood withdrawn from too intimate relation with the present time; so that we can glide backward some three quarters of a century, and surround ourselves with the ominous sublimity of... more...

EPIGRAMS POETRY She comes like the hushed beauty of the night, But sees too deep for laughter; Her touch is a vibration and a light From worlds before and after. [Charles E. Markham POETRY Poetry? Can I define it, you inquire? Yes; by your pleasure, Poetry is Thought, in princeliest attire, Treading a measure. [Duffield Osborne [2] THE YEAR’S MINSTRELSY Spring, the low prelude of a lordlier song; Summer, a music... more...

As the most striking lines of poetry are the most hackneyed, because they have grown to be the common inheritance of all the world, so many of the most noble deeds that earth can show have become the best known, and enjoyed their full meed of fame. Therefore it may be feared that many of the events here detailed, or alluded to, may seem trite to those in search of novelty; but it is not for such that the collection has been made. It is rather... more...

THE ATHEIST "I worship no one," cried the atheist. "Divinities are senseless, useless, barriers to progress and ambition, a curse to man. Gods, fetiches, graven images, idols—faugh!" On the atheist's work-table stood the photograph of a beautiful girl. II ALLIES The Devil, finishing his seidel of Würzburger, eyed the young man quizzically. "What would you of me?" he said. "I would ask," bade the young man, "how one may... more...

FOREWORD The man should have youth and strength who seeks adventure in the wide, waste spaces of the earth, in the marshes, and among the vast mountain masses, in the northern forests, amid the steaming jungles of the tropics, or on the deserts of sand or of snow. He must long greatly for the lonely winds that blow across the wilderness, and for sunrise and sunset over the rim of the empty world. His heart must thrill for the saddle and not for... more...

Chapter I Cross-Roads IT was late November and a little snow had fallen. Three boys were on their way down Park Avenue to school—the Regal High. One of the boys, Frank Mulvy, carried his lunch in his pocket. He did not live far away, but his mother was to be out for the day and had put up a lunch for him. As the boys came down the avenue, an old man whom they had never seen before, met them. He asked them for a few cents to get something... more...

CHAPTER I It was the last of May in the north of England, in the year 1209. A very different England from what any boy of to-day has seen. A chilly east wind was blowing. The trees of the vast forests were all in leaf but the ash trees, and they were unfolding their buds. And along a bridle-path a few miles southwest of York a lad of fourteen was riding, while behind him followed a handsome deerhound. A boy of fourteen, at that age of the world,... more...