The ever-fluctuating vicissitudes of human life had once more scattered our little group of friends asunder. Sylvester had gone back to his country home; Ottmar had travelled away on business, and so had Cyprian; Vincent was still in the town, but (after his accustomed fashion) he had disappeared in the turmoil, and was nowhere to be seen; Lothair was nursing Theodore, who had been laid on a bed of... more...

CHAPTER I. Name widely known—Interest naturally awakened in his history—His origin —Development of his genius—Opinion of Capt. Horatio Jones—Customs of his people—Their love of eloquence—Distinguished orators among them—The inviting field opened. Among the aborigines of this country, few names have excited a deeper interest, or have been more widely and familiarly known than that of RED... more...

I. A CHRISTMAS DREAM, AND HOW IT CAME TRUE. "I'm so tired of Christmas I wish there never would be another one!" exclaimed a discontented-looking little girl, as she sat idly watching her mother arrange a pile of gifts two days before they were to be given. "Why, Effie, what a dreadful thing to say! You are as bad as old Scrooge; and I'm afraid something will happen to you, as it... more...

Were a former inhabitant of this country who had quitted the stage of life towards the close of last century to reappear in our midst, he could not fail to be struck with the wonderful changes which have taken place in the aspect of things; in the methods of performing the tasks of daily life; and in the character of our social system generally. Nor is it too much to say that he would see himself... more...

One might write continuously while he lived for or against Socialism and yet at the end of a long and misspent life have said nothing that others had not said before him. Nevertheless, new generations come on and have to learn about Socialism as they learn about other things, for there always have been and always will be Socialists. It is a habit of mind which becomes fixed in a certain number of each... more...

Preface I know no way in which a writer may more fittingly introduce his work to the public than by giving a brief account of who and what he is. By this means some of the blame for what he has done is very properly shifted to the extenuating circumstances of his life. I was born at Swanmoor, Hants, England, on December 30, 1869. I am not aware that there was any particular conjunction of the planets... more...

THE BUBBLE SHOP; OR, "ONLY HIS PLAY." How many deserving persons besides dramatic authors are looking about for good situations, and are unable to find them! Mr. 'Enry Hauthor Jones was sufficiently fortunate to obtain a good dramatic situation of tried strength, which, placed in the centre of novel and most improbable (not to say impossible) surroundings, has, in the hands of Mr. Charles... more...

I. By that which is self—caused, I mean that of which the essence involves existence, or that of which the nature is only conceivable as existent. II. A thing is called finite after its kind, when it can be limited by another thing of the same nature; for instance, a body is called finite because we always conceive another greater body. So, also, a thought is limited by another thought, but a body is... more...

THE QUEEN OF THE PIRATE ISLE. I first knew her as the Queen of the Pirate Isle. To the best of my recollection she had no reasonable right to that title. She was only nine years old, inclined to plumpness and good humour, deprecated violence and had never been to sea. Need it be added that she did not live in an island and that her name was "Polly." Perhaps I ought to explain that she had... more...

CHAPTER I THE INTERRUPTED STORY A girl in a green gown was cosily ensconced among the spreading branches of an old apple tree. She was reading, and she never stirred except to turn the pages of her book or to reach out for another red apple after dropping the core of the previous one. It was a glorious morning in early September, and the old Virginia orchard was sweet with the odor of ripening apples.... more...