FRANCE IN THE EIGHTEENTH The announcement that one of the most ingenious and accomplished men of letters in Europe was engaged upon a history of the French Revolution, raised some doubts among those who have thought most about the qualifications proper to the historian. M. Taine has the quality of the best type of a man of letters; he has the fine critical aptitude for seizing the secret of an... more...

CHAPTER I. PRELIMINARY. I have often been asked to prepare an autobiography, but my objections to the task have ever been many and various. To one urgent appeal I sent this sonnet of refusal, which explains itself:—"You bid me write the story of my life,And draw what secrets in my memory dwellFrom the dried fountains of her failing well,With commonplaces mixt of peace and strife,And such small... more...

CHAPTER I. The supper room of the Savoy Hotel was all brightness and glitter and gayety. But Sir James Willoughby Pitt, baronet, of the United Kingdom, looked round about him through the smoke of his cigarette, and felt moodily that this was a flat world, despite the geographers, and that he was very much alone in it. He felt old. If it is ever allowable for a young man of twenty-six to give himself up... more...

CHAPTER I. A HALT BY THE ROADSIDE. "Tara—tara!" Loud and clear sounded the notes of a bugle, blown by a very stout lad, clad in a new suit of khaki; and who was one of a bunch of Boy Scouts tramping wearily along a dusty road. "Good for you, Bumpus! Can't he just make that horn talk, though?" cried one. "Sounds as sweet as the church bell at home, fellows!" declared a... more...

CHAPTER I ABOUT NOSES AND JAWS A foxhound scents the trail of his game and tracks it straight to a killing. A lapdog lacks this capability. In the same way, there are breeds of would-be writers who never can acquire a "nose for news," and others who, from the first day that they set foot in editorial rooms, are hot on the trail that leads to billboard headlines on the front page of a newspaper... more...

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HORSE TALK. "He's a beauty!" Jack Diamond uttered the exclamation. He was admiring a horse Frank Merriwell had lately purchased. "He is," agreed Danny Griswold, with his hands thrust deep into his trousers pockets and his short legs set far apart. "But think of paying a thousand dollars!" "He looks like a racer," declared Bruce Browning, who showed unusual interest... more...

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he little green cue light blinked three times. Trevor Anson arranged his tie at just the nattily precise angle, waved his hand before a hidden lighting-effect switch in the smooth marble pillar at the entrance to the display room, and faced the elevator. This would be a "green light" customer—a first-time prospect, and three blinks indicated a very difficult individual. Anson quickly... more...

I. THE WEST Beyond the moor and the mountain crest—Comrade, look not on the west—The sun is down and drinks awayFrom air and land the lees of day. The long cloud and the single pineSentinel the ending line,And out beyond it, clear and wan,Reach the gulfs of evening on. The son of woman turns his browWest from forty countries now,And, as the edge of heaven he eyes,Thinks eternal thoughts, and sighs.... more...