A LOST HERO. "THE ENTERPRISE OF THE SUMMERVILLE MERCHANT." THE express from Columbia was due. It was almost nine o'clock on Tuesday night, the 31st of August, 1886. It had been a hot day, sultry toward night, and the loungers at the Summerville station were divided between pitying and envying their neighbors on the excursion train. In such weather, home seems either the most intolerable or the most comfortable place in the world.... more...

PROEM Beyond the pearly portal,Beyond the last dim star,Pale, perfect, and immortal,The eternal visions are,That never any raptureOf sorrow or of mirthOf any song shall captureTo dwell with men on earth. Many a strange and tragicOld sorrow still is muteAnd melodies of magicStill slumber in the flute,Many a mighty visionHas caught my yearning eyeAnd swept with calm derisionIn robes of splendor by. The rushing susurrationOf some eternal... more...

A LONDON LIFE I It was raining, apparently, but she didn't mind—she would put on stout shoes and walk over to Plash. She was restless and so fidgety that it was a pain; there were strange voices that frightened her—they threw out the ugliest intimations—in the empty rooms at home. She would see old Mrs. Berrington, whom she liked because she was so simple, and old Lady Davenant, who was staying with her and who was interesting... more...

Chapter I TURNING FROM THE CITY TO THE COUNTRY America was founded on the rock base of agriculture. The early settlers tilled the soil and derived from it the simple things that they needed. Necessity compelled them to be self-reliant, courageous and resourceful. The establishment of a home in early days meant the clearing of land, the erection of a house for human habitation and the building of shelters for a few farm animals. Each farm home... more...

Duplex Street. “Some people are such fools!” said Richard Pellet; and, if public judgment was right, he knew what a fool was as well as any man in the great city of London. He was a big man was Richard Pellet, Esq., C.C., shipper, of Austin Friars, and known among city men as “the six-hundred-pounder;” and he knew a fool when he saw one. But whether at his office in the city, or down at his place at... more...

"Perplex'd in the extreme." "The memory of past favors is like a rainbow, bright, vivid andbeautiful." The professor, sitting before his untasted breakfast, is looking the very picture of dismay. Two letters lie before him; one is in his hand, the other is on the table-cloth. Both are open; but of one, the opening lines—that tell of the death of his old friend—are all he has read; whereas he has read the other from start to... more...

PART ONE MARGERY was sitting under the cherry tree with a certain air of expectancy. She seemed to be waiting for something or some one. Willie Jones's head popped over the back fence and Willie Jones himself, a tin pail in one hand, dropped into the Blair yard and made for the cherry tree. But Margery still gazed earnestly, tensely, into nothing. Willie Jones, evidently, was not the object of her thoughts. "What's the matter, Margery?"... more...

I. IN THE UNSEEN. She had been talking of dying only the evening before, with a friend, and had described her own sensations after a long illness when she had been at the point of death. "I suppose," she said, "that I was as nearly gone as any one ever was to come back again. There was no pain in it, only a sense of sinking down, down—through the bed as if nothing could hold me or give me support enough—but no pain." And then they... more...

She had been talking of dying only the evening before, with a friend, and had described her own sensations after a long illness when she had been at the point of death. "I suppose," she said, "that I was as nearly gone as any one ever was to come back again. There was no pain in it, only a sense of sinking down, down—through the bed as if nothing could hold me or give me support enough—but no pain." And then they had spoken of another... more...

CHAPTER I He was eight years old, and his name was Geoffry. But everyone called him Jeff. The gentle lady who was his mother had no other children, and she loved him more than words can say; not because he was a good or pretty child—for he was neither—but because he was her one little child. Jeff had big wide-awake, brown eyes, that seemed as if they never could look sleepy. His hair was yellow, but cut so short that it could not... more...