My name is John Brenwalter. My father, a drunkard, had a patent for an invention, for making coffee-berries out of clay; but he was an honest man and would not himself engage in the manufacture. He was, therefore, only moderately wealthy, his royalties from his really valuable invention bringing him hardly enough to pay his expenses of litigation with rogues guilty of infringement. So I lacked many... more...

By THE light of a tallow candle, which had been placed on one end of a rough table, a man was reading something written in a book. It was an old account book, greatly worn; and the writing was not, apparently, very legible, for the man sometimes held the page close to the flame of the candle to get a stronger light upon it. The shadow of the book would then throw into obscurity a half of the room,... more...

THE PASSING SHOW. I.   I know not if it was a dream. I viewed  A city where the restless multitude,    Between the eastern and the western deep  Had roared gigantic fabrics, strong and rude.   Colossal palaces crowned every height;  Towers from valleys climbed into the light;    O'er dwellings at their feet, great golden domes  Hung in the blue, barbarically bright.   But... more...