Showing: 21-30 results of 147

THIS SIMIAN WORLD   ONE Last Sunday, Potter took me out driving along upper Broadway, where those long rows of tall new apartment houses were built a few years ago. It was a mild afternoon and great crowds of people were out. Sunday afternoon crowds. They were not going anywhere,--they were just strolling up and down, staring at each other, and talking. There were thousands and thousands of them. "Awful, aren't they!" said Potter. I... more...

CHAPTER I THE CREATION Six busy days it took in allTo make a World and plan its fall,The seventh, SOMEONE said ’twas goodAnd rested, should you think he could?Knowing what the result would beThere would have been no rest for me!Claire Beecher Kummer. It takes much longer to write a Geography than, according to Moses, it took to create the World which it is the Geographer’s business to describe; and since the Critic has been added... more...

PROEM. We are coming to the rescue,Just a hundred strong;With fun and pun and epigram,And laughter, wit, and song; With badinage and repartee,And humor quaint or bold,And stories that are stories,Not several æons old; With parody and nondescript,Burlesque and satire keen,And irony and playful jest,So that it may be seen That women are not quite so dull:We come—a merry throng;Yes, we're coming to the rescue,And just a hundred... more...

by Various
Never rains where Jim is—People kickin', whinin';He goes round insistin',—"Sun is almost shinin'!"Never's hot where Jim is—When the town is sweatin';He jes' sets and answers,—"Well, I ain't a-frettin'!"Never's cold where Jim is—None of us misdoubt it,Seein' we're nigh frozen!He "ain't thought about it"!Things that rile up othersNever seem to strike him!"Trouble-proof," I call it,—Wisht that I was like him!... more...

by Various
In the warm sun of the southern morning the great plantation lay as though half-asleep, dozing and blinking at the advancing day. The plantation house, known in all the country side as the Big House, rested calm and self-confident in the middle of a wide sweep of cleared lands, surrounded immediately by dark evergreens and the occasional primeval oaks spared in the original felling of the forest. Wide and rambling galleries of one height or... more...


by Various
BREITMANN AND THE TURNERS BY CHARLES GODFREY LELAND Hans Breitmann choined de ToornersNovemper in de fall,Und dey gifed a boostin' benderAll in de Toorner Hall.Dere coomed de whole GesangvereinMit der Liederlich Aepfel Chor,Und dey blowed on de drooms und stroomed on de fifesTill dey couldn't refife no more. Hans Breitmann choined de Toorners,Dey all set oop some shouts,Dey took'd him into deir Toorner Hall,Und poots him a course of... more...

by Various
GRAINS OF TRUTH BY BILL NYE A young friend has written to me as follows: "Could you tell me something of the location of the porcelain works in Sèvres, France, and what the process is of making those beautiful things which come from there? How is the name of the town pronounced? Can you tell me anything of the history of Mme. Pompadour? Who was the Dauphin? Did you learn anything of Louis XV whilst in France? What are your literary... more...

by Various
They all climbed up on a high board-fence—Nine little Goblins, with green-glass eyes—Nine little Goblins that had no sense,And couldn't tell coppers from cold mince pies;And they all climbed up on the fence, and sat—And I asked them what they were staring at.And the first one said, as he scratched his headWith a queer little arm that reached out of his earAnd rasped its claws in his hair so red—"This is what this little... more...

by Various
THE STORY OF THE TWO FRIARS BY EUGENE FIELD It befell in the year 1662, in which same year were many witchcrafts and sorceries, such as never before had been seen and the like of which will never again, by grace of Heaven, afflict mankind—in this year it befell that the devil came upon earth to tempt an holy friar, named Friar Gonsol, being strictly minded to win that righteous vessel of piety unto his evil pleasance. Now wit you... more...

by Various
OUR NEW NEIGHBORS AT PONKAPOG BY THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH When I saw the little house building, an eighth of a mile beyond my own, on the Old Bay Road, I wondered who were to be the tenants. The modest structure was set well back from the road, among the trees, as if the inmates were to care nothing whatever for a view of the stylish equipages which sweep by during the summer season. For my part, I like to see the passing, in town or country; but... more...