Historical Books

CHAPTER I THE DESPATCH All morning the King had been restless, unappeasable, captious, with little relapses unto the immobility of deep thought, and those who knew him best were probing deeply both their conscience and their conduct. Had he sat aloof, quiet in the sunshine, his dogs sleeping at his feet, his eyes half closed, his hands, waxen, almost transparent, and bird's claws for thinness,... more...

PREFACE In beginning what, if it ever gets finished, must in all probability be the last of some already perhaps too numerous studies of literary history, I should like to point out that the plan of it is somewhat different from that of most, if not all, of its predecessors. I have usually gone on the principle (which I still think a sound one) that, in studying the literature of a country, or in... more...

CHAPTER I. "The morning had shot her bright streamers on high,O'er Canada, opening all pale to the sky; Still dazzling and white was the robe that she wore,Except where the ocean wave lash'd on the shore." Jacobite Song. THERE lies between the Rice Lake and the Ontario, a deep and fertile valley, surrounded by lofty wood-crowned hills, the heights of which were clothed chiefly with... more...

Castles in the Air. “O pale, pale face, so sweet and meek, Oriana!” Tennyson. “Is the linen all put away, Clarice?” “Ay, Dame.” “And the rosemary not forgotten?” “I have laid it in the linen, Dame.” “And thy day’s task of spinning is done?” “All done, Dame.” “Good. Then fetch thy sewing and come hither, and I will tell thee somewhat touching the lady whom thou art to... more...

CHAPTER I IN THE FIRCONE TAVERN In the dark main room of the Fircone Tavern the warm June air seemed to have lost all its delicacy, like a degraded angel. It was sodden through and through, as with the lees of wine; it was stained and shamed with the smells of hams and cheeses; it was thick and heavy as if with the breaths of all the rogues and all the vagabonds that had haunted the hostelry from its... more...

In Search of the “Barbara.” “What’s the name of the craft you want to get aboard, sir?” asked old Bob, the one-legged boatman, whose wherry I had hired to carry me out to Spithead. “The Barbara,” I answered, trying to look more at my ease than I felt; for the old fellow, besides having but one leg, had a black patch over the place where his right eye should have been, while his left arm... more...

In which there is more Ale than Argument. It was on a blusterous windy night in the early part of November, 1812, that three men were on the high road near to the little village of Grassford, in the south of Devonshire. The moon was nearly at the full, but the wild scud, and occasionally the more opaque clouds, passed over in such rapid succession, that it was rarely, and but for a moment or two, that... more...

THE GUNS OF SUMTER Winter had vanished. Spring was come with a hush. Toward a little island set in the blue waters of Charleston harbor anxious eyes were strained. Was the flag still there? God alone may count the wives and mothers who listened in the still hours of the night for the guns of Sumter. One sultry night in April Stephen's mother awoke with fear in her heart, for she had heard them.... more...

Preface. It is difficult, in these days of religious toleration, to understand why men should, three centuries ago, have flown at each others' throats in the name of the Almighty; still less how, in cold blood, they could have perpetrated hideous massacres of men, women, and children. The Huguenot wars were, however, as much political as religious. Philip of Spain, at that time the most powerful... more...

AN ESTRAY. One day in the autumn Terence Clark came to the house of Frederick Linden and urged him to join in a hunt for a cow that had been missing since the night before. The latter got the consent of his mother and the two lads started on a search that proved to be the most eventful one they had ever known. A few words in the way of explanation must be given at this point. The date of the events I... more...