Western Europe Books

CHAPTER I. Foundation building is neither picturesque nor especially interesting, but it is indispensable. However fair the structure is to be, one must first lay the rough-hewn stones upon which it is to rest. It would be much pleasanter in this sketch to display at once the minarets and towers, and stained-glass windows; but that can only be done when one's castle is in Spain. Would we... more...

The bombardment of Antwerp began about ten o'clock on the evening of Wednesday, October 7. The first shell to fall within the city struck a house in the Berchem district, killing a fourteen-year-old boy and wounding his mother and little sister. The second decapitated a street-sweeper as he was running for shelter. Throughout the night the rain of death continued without cessation, the shells... more...

PREFACE Though no excuse can be needed for including in our Extra Series a reprint of a unique Caxton on a most interesting subject, yet this Book of Curtesye from Hill's MS. was at first intended for our original series, I having forgotten lately that Caxton had written to 'lytyl Iohn,' though some months back I had entered the old printer's book for my second collection of Manners... more...

Chapter I The Germans In Brussels When, on August 4, the Lusitania, with lights doused and air-ports sealed, slipped out of New York harbor the crime of the century was only a few days old. And for three days those on board the Lusitania of the march of the great events were ignorant. Whether or no between England and Germany the struggle for the supremacy of the sea had begun we could not learn. But... more...

SECTION VIII.—PHILIPPE I., DUC D'ORLEANS. Cardinal Mazarin perceiving that the King had less readiness than his brother, was apprehensive lest the latter should become too learned; he therefore enjoined the preceptor to let him play, and not to suffer him to apply to his studies. "What can you be thinking of, M. la Mothe le Vayer," said the Cardinal; "would you try to make the... more...

A Dirge Of Victory (Sonnet) Lift not thy trumpet, Victory, to the sky,  Nor through battalions nor by batteries blow,  But over hollows full of old wire go,Where among dregs of war the long-dead lieWith wasted iron that the guns passed by.  When they went eastwards like a tide at flow;  There blow thy trumpet that the dead may know,Who waited for thy coming, Victory. It is not we that have... more...