CHAPTER I BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN The subject of this memoir is revered by multitudes of his countrymen as the preserver of their commonwealth. This reverence has grown with the lapse of time and the accumulation of evidence. It is blended with a peculiar affection, seldom bestowed upon the memory of statesmen. It is shared to-day by many who remember with no less affection how their own fathers fought... more...

CHAPTER I Chip was very tired. All that long June day, since Tim’s harsh, “Come, out wid ye,” had roused her to daily toil, until now, wearied and disconsolate, she had crept, barefoot, up the back stairs to her room, not one moment’s rest or one kindly word had been hers. Below, in the one living room of Tim’s Place, the men were grouped playing cards, and the medley of their oaths, their... more...

MOZART The composer whom we call WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART was called Wolferl when he was a little boy. He had a sister, MARIA ANNA, who was called NANNERL. Nannerl was five years older than her brother. She had lessons from her father on a kind of piano called a harpsichord. Here is a picture of one. MOZART'S HARPSICHORD When Wolferl was three years old he used to listen to Nannerl's playing.... more...

CHAPTER I THE RED ADMIRAL The tiny brown house cuddling like a wren's nest on the edge of the longest and deepest of the tide-water coves that cut through Riverton had but four rooms in all,—the kitchen tacked to the back porch, after the fashion of South Carolina kitchens, the shed room in which Peter slept, the dining-room which was the general living-room as well, and his mother's room,... more...

HOMEWARD BOUND Mr. Hatchard's conversation for nearly a week had been confined to fault- finding and grunts, a system of treatment designed to wean Mrs. Hatchard from her besetting sin of extravagance. On other occasions the treatment had, for short periods, proved successful, but it was quite evident that his wife's constitution was becoming inured to this physic and required a change of... more...

The Postage Stamp follows the Flag. The same small talisman which passes our letters across the seven seas to friends the world over maintains the lines of personal communication with our soldiers and sailors in time of war. Wherever the British Tommy goes he must have his letters from home; like the lines of communication, which are the life-line of the army, postal communication is the chief support... more...

What is Guilt? A stain upon the soul. And it is a point of vast interest, whether the soul may contract such stains, in all their depth and flagrancy, from deeds which may have been plotted and resolved upon, but which, physically, have never had existence. Must the fleshly hand and visible frame of man set its seal to the evil designs of the soul, in order to give them their entire validity against... more...

THE DEFEAT OF YOUTH I. UNDER THE TREES. here had been phantoms, pale-remembered shapesOf this and this occasion, sisterlyIn their resemblances, each effigyCrowned with the same bright hair above the nape'sWhite rounded firmness, and each body alertWith such swift loveliness, that very restSeemed a poised movement: ... phantoms that impressedBut a faint influence and could bless or hurtNo more than... more...

IN THE LAND OF THE COWBOY "What's that?" "Guns, I reckon." "Sounds to me as if the town were being attacked. Just like war time, isn't it?" "Never having been to war, I can't say. But it's a noise all right." The freckle-faced boy, sitting on his pony with easy confidence, answered his companion's questions absently. After a careless glance up... more...

CHAPTER 1 The tropical sun mounted the rim of the golden Caribbean, quivered for a moment like a fledgeling preening its wings for flight, then launched forth boldly into the vault of heaven, shattering the lowering vapors of night into a myriad fleecy clouds of every form and color, and driving them before it into the abysmal blue above. Leaping the sullen walls of old Cartagena, the morning beams... more...