CHAPTER I.—THE MOOR. Crimson and gold. As far as one could see across the moor it was one broad expanse of purply heather, kindled into a glowing crimson by the blaze of ruddy sunshine, and lighted here and there by bright patches of the thorny golden rod. Dame Nature had evidently painted out of her summer paint-box, and had not spared her best and brightest colours. Crimson-lake, children; you know... more...

CHAPTER I. We were in mid-ocean. Over the vast expanses of the oily sea no ripple was to be seen although Captain BABBIJAM kept his binoculars levelled at the silent horizon for three-quarters of an hour by the saloon clock. Far away in the murky distance of the mysterious empyrean, a single star flashed with a weird brilliance down upon the death-like stillness of the immemorial ocean. Yet the good... more...

ST. GEORGE'S CHAPEL, WINDSOR. This venerable structure, as we explained in No. 486 of The Mirror, is situated in the lower ward or court of Windsor Castle. It stands in the centre, and in a manner, divides the court into two parts. On the north or inner side are the houses and apartments of the Dean and Canons of St. George's Chapel, with those of the minor canons, clerks, and other officers;... more...

A "WHITE SQUALL." Hurrah for the Mediterranean! Hurrah for the tideless sea! with its sunny skies and sparkling waters, blue and bright as ever, while English moors and German forests are being buried in snow by a bitter January storm! Well might one think that these handsome, olive-cheeked, barefooted fellows in red caps and blue shirts, who cruise about this "summer sea" in their trim... more...

OUGHT WOMEN TO LEARN THE ALPHABET? Paris smiled, for an hour or two, in the year 1801, when, amidst Napoleon's mighty projects for remodelling the religion and government of his empire, the ironical satirist, Sylvain Maréchal, thrust in his "Plan for a Law prohibiting the Alphabet to Women." Daring, keen, sarcastic, learned, the little tract retains to-day so much of its pungency, that we... more...

AUTOGRAPHS. It is long since our pages were illustrated with such characteristic lineaments as those on the opposite page. The reader will, however, perceive that we have not entirely forgotten the quaint motto from Shenstone, in our earlier volumes— "I want to see Mrs. Jago's handwriting, that I may judge of her temper." Still the annexed Autographs have not been drawn from our own... more...

CHAPTER I. DAWNATION. A modern American Ritualistic Spire! How can the modern American Ritualistic Spire be here! The well-known tapering brown Spire, like a closed umbrella on end? How can that be here? There is no rusty rim of a shocking bad hat between the eye and that Spire in the real prospect. What is the rusty rim that now intervenes, and confuses the vision of at least one eye? It must be an... more...

THE BEETLE OF BUDA-PESTH. AN UNRECORDED EPISODE OF THE GREAT WAR. The War being now practically at an end and Austria-Hungary irrevocably broken up, I am able to recount an adventure, in which I was involved, that occurred at Buda-Pesth in the second week of August, 1914. Seated at a café on the famous Franz-Josef Quai, I was sipping coffee, after an excellent lunch, with Frederick, whose surname I... more...

THE GENTLEMAN’S OWN BOOK. Our consideration must now be given to those essentials in the construction of a true gentleman—the cut, ornaments, and pathology of his dress. THE CUT is to the garment what the royal head and arms are to the coin—the insignia that give it currency. No matter what the material, gold or copper, Saxony or sackcloth, the die imparts a value to the one, and the shears to... more...

A FEW WORDS OF EXPLANATION. It was in no boastful or puffing spirit that, when thanking a correspondent in our last number for "his endeavour to enlarge our circulation," and requesting all our friends and correspondents "to follow PHILO'S example by bringing 'NOTES AND QUERIES' under the notice of such of their friends as take an interest in literary pursuits," we added... more...