Orson Lowell

CECILIA THE PHARISEE I, Cecilia Morgan Madigan, being of sound mind and in purfect bodily health, and residing in Virginia City, Nevada, do hereby on this first day of April solemnly promise: 1. That I will be Number 1 this next month at school. 2. That I will be pachient with Papa, and try to stand him. 3. That I will set Bep—yes, and Fom too, even if she is Irene's partner—a good example. 4.... more...

THE MARTYRDOM OF "MEALY" JONES A WAIL IN B MINOR Oh, what has become of the ornery boy, Who used to chew slip'ry elm, "rosum" and wheat: And say "jest a coddin'" and "what d'ye soy;" And wear rolled-up trousers all out at the seat? And where is the boy who had shows in the barn, And "skinned a cat backards" and turned "summersets;" The boy... more...

ABOUT BEING BANISHED I don't know yet whether I'm pleased or not, but I do know that I'm excited—more excited than I've ever been in my life, except perhaps when Miss Mackinstry, my last governess, had hysterics in the schoolroom and fainted among the tea things. I suppose I shan't be able to decide about the state of my feelings until I've had more of them on the same... more...

CHAPTER I The courtyard of the Hotel du Lac, furnished with half a dozen tables and chairs, a red and green parrot chained to a perch, and a shady little arbor covered with vines, is a pleasant enough place for morning coffee, but decidedly too sunny for afternoon tea. It was close upon four of a July day, when Gustavo, his inseparable napkin floating from his arm, emerged from the cool dark doorway of... more...

The Persons of the Story: FLORIAN AMIDON, a respectable young banker of literary and artistic tastes. EUGENE BRASSFIELD, for a description of whose peculiarities the reader is referred to the text. ELIZABETH WALDRON, a young woman just out of school. JUDGE BLODGETT, an elderly lawyer. MADAME LE CLAIRE, a professional occultist. PROFESSOR BLATHERWICK, her father, a German scientist. DAISY SCARLETT, a... more...

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... more...