PREFACE. In these days of plenty, when books of every subject and nature have become as commonly familiar to men as the blades of grass by the roadside, it seems superfluous to say any word of introduction or explanation on ushering a volume into the world of letters; but, lest the question arise as regards the direct intention or motive of an author, it is always safer that he make a plain statement... more...

BLACK EYES AND BLUE. A dreary little group was trudging along a Swedish highroad one bright October morning. It was a union between north and south, and like many other unions, not altogether founded on love. The bear, the prominent member of the party, was a Swede, and a Swede in a very bad humour. The iron ring in his torn nose, and the stout stick in the hand of one of his Italian masters, showed... more...

CHAPTER IX. CONTINUED. EARLY VOYAGES OF THE ENGLISH. TO THE EAST INDIES, BEFORE THE ESTABLISHMENT OF AN EXCLUSIVE COMPANY. SECTION IV. Voyage of Mr John Eldred, by Sea, to Tripoli, in Syria, and thence, by Land and River, to Bagdat and Basora, in 1583.[1] I departed from London in the Tiger on Shrove-Tuesday, 1583, in company with Mr John Newberry, Mr Ralph Fitch, and six or seven other honest... more...

INTRODUCTION. This Account, which is intended to describe the country as it stood previously to the war with the British, commencing in the end of the year 1814, is derived chiefly from the following sources. In the first place, during the years 1802 and 1803, I passed fourteen months in the country, mostly in the vicinity of Kathmandu, the capital; and I was accompanied by Ramajai Batacharji, an... more...

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. In two former communications on a subject incidental to that to which I now beg leave to call your attention, I hinted at a result far more important than the discovery of the author of the Taming of a Shrew. That result I lay before your readers, in stating that I think I can show grounds for the assertion that the Taming of the Shrew, by Shakspeare, is the original play; and... more...

THE MUD LARKS. Yesterday morning, a freckled child, dripping oil and perspiration and clad in a sort of canvas dressing-gown, stumbled into "Remounts" (or "Demounts," as we should more properly call ourselves nowadays) and presented me with a slip of paper which entitled him, the bearer, to immediate demobilisation on pivotal grounds. I handed it back to him, explaining that he had come... more...

The Camp on the Matya’mhlope. “There! That is Umzilikazi’s grave,” said Christian Sybrandt, pointing out a towering pile of rocks some little way off, across the valley. “Is it? Let’s go and have a look at it then,” was the prompt reply. But immediately upon having made it, the second speaker knew that he had spoken like a fool, for the first gave a short laugh. “Go over and have a look... more...

CAUGHT IN THE ACT. "Help! Police! Murder!" It was a dark, rainy night in March when this thrilling cry, in a man's voice, came from a house in West Thirty-sixth street, New York. Two detectives were passing along from Seventh avenue, toward Broadway, when the wild appeal brought them to a sudden pause. "Hark, Old King Brady!" one of them exclaimed. "Did you hear that cry?"... more...

CHAPTER I On a train speeding toward New York, in one of the parlour cars two young women sat facing each other, talking and smiling, deeply absorbed. They took little apparent notice of any one else in the car, but most of the people near them kept throwing curious glances their way. These glances differed vastly, as did the thoughts behind them. A tall, genial Westerner, who looked as though he had... more...

El Camino Real" A small cavalcade was slowly winding down a steep, white road. The bare, brown hills rose up on one side like the earth's friars of St. Francis, while on the other, at some distance away, the Pacific Ocean showed green and still. Near the shore the waves broke into white sprites of foam against the deep, incurving cliffs. A girl riding at the head of the column reined in her... more...