CHAPTER I. "A fair day's business. A very fair day's business," said Leonard Jasper, as he closed a small account-book, over which he had been poring, pencil in hand, for some ten minutes. The tone in which he spoke expressed more than ordinary gratification. "To what do the sales amount?" asked a young man, clerk to the dealer, approaching his principal as he spoke. "To just two hundred dollars, Edward. It's the best day we've had for a... more...

CHAPTER I. It was raining when the ship was ready to sail; yet on the pier a large crowd of people stood under dripping umbrellas, waving and shouting farewells to their friends on board. The departing passengers, most of them protected by an upper deck, pressed four deep against the rail, and waved and shouted in return. The belated passenger, struggling with heavy hand baggage, scrambled up the gang-plank. The last visitors were hustled... more...

CHAPTER I. A voice rang through one of the streets of Alexandria. "Sinners, away, or keep your eyes to the ground! Keep your eyes to the ground!" The white-robed priestesses of Ceres, carrying a sacred basket, walked in procession through the Alexandrian street, and as they walked they cried aloud their warning. So, for four centuries, since the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus, had priestesses of Ceres walked and called aloud their admonitions... more...

Part I. "Gold may be dear bought." A narrow street with dreadful "wynds" and "vennels" running back from it was the High street of Glasgow at the time my story opens. And yet, though dirty, noisy and overcrowded with sin and suffering, a flavor of old time royalty and romance lingered amid its vulgar surroundings; and midway of its squalid length a quaint brown frontage kept behind it noble halls of learning, and pleasant old courts full of the... more...

CHAPTER 1 Rome had passed the summits and stood looking into the dark valley of fourteen hundred years. Behind her the graves of Caesar and Sallust and Cicero and Catullus and Vergil and Horace; before her centuries of madness and treading down; round about her a multitude sickening of luxury, their houses filled with spoil, their mouths with folly, their souls with discontent; above her only mystery and silence; in her train, philosophers... more...

A Sceptic’s Home. Look back some forty years—there was not a quieter place then than the little village of Crossbourne. It was a snug spot, situated among hills, and looked as though it were hiding away out of the sight and notice of the bustling, roaring traffic that was going ceaselessly on all around it. A little fussy stream or brook flowed on restlessly day and night through the centre of the village, and seemed to be the only... more...

CHAPTER I Enjoy the spring of love and youth,To some good angel leave the rest,For time will teach thee soon the truth,"There are no birds in last year's nest." —Longfellow. "Mamma, what was that I heard papa saying to you this morning about his lawsuit?" "I cannot tell you just now. Ellen, pick up that shawl and spread it over me." "Mamma!—are you cold in this warm room?" "A little,—there, that will do. Now, my daughter,... more...

CHAPTER I. Breaking the News. "Mamma, what was that I heard papa saying to you this morning about his lawsuit?" "I cannot tell you just now. Ellen, pick up that shawl and spread it over me." "Mamma! are you cold in this warm room?" "A little, there, that will do. Now, my daughter, let me be quiet a while don't disturb me." There was no one else in the room. Driven thus to her own resources, Ellen betook herself to the window, and sought... more...

CHAPTER I "Dr. Lavendar," said William King, "some time when Goliath is doing his 2.40 on a plank road, don't you want to pull him up at that house on the Perryville pike where the Grays used to live, and make a call? An old fellow called Roberts has taken it; he is a—" "Teach your grandmother," said Dr. Lavendar; "he is an Irvingite. He comes from Lower Ripple, down on the Ohio, and he has a daughter, Philippa." "Oh," said Dr. King,... more...

A Holy Saint.   T is in the Thebaïd, on the heights of a mountain, where a platform, shaped like a crescent, is surrounded by huge stones. The Hermit's cell occupies the background. It is built of mud and reeds, flat-roofed and doorless. Inside are seen a pitcher and a loaf of black bread; in the centre, on a wooden support, a large book; on the ground, here and there, bits of rush-work, a mat or two, a basket and a knife. Some ten... more...