FOREWORD Songs from a far-away world; a cry from another sphere. To those of us who once experienced the still and pitiless cold, a cry terribly suggestive of the horror-charged gloom, of the icy silence as unbroken as that of unfathomable deeps, of the stern and uncompromising individuality of a disturbed and vengeful North. Yet one is also reminded that, even in the Klondyke, in due season the... more...

OLD SALTS The lure of the sea prevailed, and at nineteen I shipped for a four-months' fishing trip on the Newfoundland Banks. These banks are not the kind that slope toward some gentle stream where the weary fisherman can rest between bites, protected from the sun by the shade of an overhanging tree; they are thirty to forty fathoms beneath the surface of the Atlantic Ocean, a thousand miles out... more...

We have walked much this awake and have stopped now for sleep. Last City is far behind us. Except for the two lamps we keep lighted to frighten away the Groles, there is nothing but blackness in the passage. The others are sleeping, and close beside me, Nina sleeps also. The sound of her breathing is all I have in the darkness. Thoughts are not clear when the body is so tired, and the things that have... more...

CHAPTER I DEEP CAÑON The hunter was riding leisurely up the steep mountain side above Dry Mesa. On such an ascent most city men would have preferred to climb afoot. But there was a month’s layer of tan on the hunter’s handsome, supercilious face. He balanced himself lightly on his flat English saddle, and permitted the wiry little cow pony to pick the best path over the ledges and up the stiff... more...

I.  OUT OF THE DEEP OF SUFFERING AND SORROW. Save me, O God, for the waters are come in even unto my soul: I am come into deep waters; so that the floods run over me.—Ps. lxix. 1, 2. I am brought into so great trouble and misery: that I go mourning all the day long.—Ps. xxxviii. 6. The sorrows of my heart are enlarged: Oh! bring Thou me out of my distress.—Ps. xxv. 17. The Lord hath heard the... more...

I Marcus Gard sat at his library table apparently in rapt contemplation of a pair of sixteenth century bronze inkwells, strange twisted shapes, half man, half beast, bearing in their breasts twin black pools. But his thoughts were far from their grotesque beauty--centered on vast schemes of destruction and reconstruction. The room was still, so quiet, in spite of its proximity to the crowded life of... more...

A Motor Trip in San Diego's Back Country. Come, you men and women automobilists, get off the paved streets of Los Angeles and betake yourselves to the back country of San Diego county, where you can enjoy automobile life to the utmost during the summer. There drink in the pure air of the mountains, perfumed with the breath of pines and cedars, the wild lilacs, the sweet-pea vines, and a thousand... more...

he sidewalk was as soft as a good bed. Malone lay curled on it thinking about nothing at all. He was drifting off into a wonderful dream and he didn't want to interrupt it. There was this girl, a beautiful girl, more wonderful than anything he had ever imagined, with big blue eyes and long blond hair and a figure that made the average pin-up girl look like a man. And she had her soft white hand on... more...

We alight at Brocklebank Fells. “Sure, there is room within our hearts good store;For we can lodge transgressions by the score:Thousands of toys dwell there, yet out of door        We leave Thee.”                     George Herbert. “Girls!” said my Aunt Kezia, looking round at us, “I should just like to know what is to come of the whole four of you!” My Aunt... more...

The sun had dropped behind the Grimaldi plateau, although for a day twilight would linger over the Oceanus Procellarum. The sky was a hazy blue, and out over the deeper tinted waves the full Earth swung. All the long half-month it had hung there above the horizon, its light dimmed by the sunshine, growing from a thin crescent to its full disk three times as broad as that of the sun at setting. Now in... more...