THE ART OF WARFARE "The Art of War, like every other art, possesses its theory, its principles; otherwise, it would not be an art."—MARSHAL FOCH. The Art of War, like any other art, is based upon certain fixed principles, and there is no short cut which hurries the student to his goal. The long and laborious line of study is the only safe way, and there are many pitfalls to be avoided on the... more...

Morning Prayers. 1.Now I awake and see the light;Lord, Thou hast kept me through the night.To Thee I lift my voice and prayThat Thou wilt keep me through the day.If I should die before 'tis done,O God, accept me through Thy Son! Amen. 2.The morning brightWith rosy lightHas waked me from my sleep;Father, I ownThy love aloneThy little one doth keep. All through the day,I humbly pray,Be Thou my Guard... more...

Medicines made of Lemmons. To take away the Spots, or red Pimpels of the face. Take halfe a pint of raine water, and halfe a pint of good Verjuice, seeth it till it be halfe consumed, then whilst it boils fill it up againe with juyce of Lemmon, and so let it seeth a pretty while; then take it from the fire, and when it is cold put to it the whites of four new laid Eggs, well beaten, and with this water... more...

PREFACE The ways of telling a story are as many as the tellers themselves. It is impossible to lay down precise rules by which any one may perfect himself in the art, but it is possible to offer suggestions by which to guide practise in narration toward a gratifying success. Broadly distinguished, there are two methods of telling a story. One uses the extreme of brevity, and makes its chief reliance on... more...

LONDON 1905 PREFACE My readers of Forbidden Fruit may wish to know the origin of the work. It was this way, whilst I was staying at an out of the way village on the Sussex coast, I used to take long solitary walks, and several times saw a very beautiful girl sitting on a secluded part of the downs, attentively reading what looked like a manuscript in a black cover. Naturally I concluded she was some... more...

There were three of us—Mary, Eliza, and myself. I was approaching fifteen, Mary was about a year younger, and Eliza between twelve and thirteen years of age. Mamma treated us all as children, and was blind to the fact that I was no longer what I had been. Although not tall for my age, nor outwardly presenting a manly appearance, my passions were awakening, and the distinctive feature of my sex,... more...