CHAPTER I "SOME RIDIN'!" Two riders slumped comfortably in their saddles as the ponies slowly ambled along. The sun was hot, and the dust stifling, a cloud of it forming a floating screen about the horsemen and progressing with them down the trail. One of the riders, a tall, lanky and weather-beaten cowboy, taking a long breath, raised his voice in what he doubtless intended to be a song.... more...

CHAPTER I WISTARIA PORCH "Oh, Little Billee! Come quick, for goodness' sake! The baby's choking!" Patty was in the sun parlour, her arms full of a fluttering bundle of lace and linen, and her blue eyes wide with dismay at her small daughter's facial contortions. "Only with laughter," Bill reassured her after a quick glance at the restless infant. "Give her to me."... more...

CHAPTER I. THE TWO COMRADES. "War has been declared, mother!" shouted Hal, as closely followed by his friend, Chester Crawford, he dashed into the great hotel in Berlin, where the three were stopping, and made his way through the crowd that thronged the lobby to his mother's side. "Yes, mother, it's true," continued Hal, seeing the look of consternation on Mrs. Paine's... more...

Since the publication of Edward Fitzgerald's classic translation of the Rubaiyat in 1851 - or rather since its general popularity several years later - poets minor and major have been rendering the sincerest form of flattery to the genius of the Irishman who brought Persia into the best regulated families. Unfortunately there was only one Omar and there were scores of imitators who, in order to... more...

Doctors lay by your Irksome Books And all ye Petty-Fogging Rookes Leave Quacking; and Enucleate The vertues of our Chocolate. Let th’ Universall Medicine (Made up of Dead-mens Bones and Skin,)Be henceforth Illegitimate,And yeild to Soveraigne-Chocolate. Let Bawdy-Baths be us’d no more;Nor Smoaky-Stoves but by the whoreOf Babilon: since Happy-Fate Hath Blessed us with Chocolate. Let old Punctæus... more...

CHAPTER1 OLD MAN OF THE HILLS A girl in crumpled linen slacks skidded to a fast stop on the polished floor of the Star business office. With a flourish, she pushed a slip of paper through the bars of the treasurer’s cage. She grinned beguilingly at the man who was totaling a long column of figures. “Top o’ the morning, Mr. Peters,” she chirped. “How about cashing a little check for me?” The... more...

CHAPTER I A BOMBING AIR RAID The scene in the valley was striking in one respect. Low ranges of gently sloping hills had widened out, enclosing broad levels with what in America would be termed a creek but was here poetically named a river. By here I mean eastern France, not so many miles from No-Man's-Land. The "striking" feature was the "Flying Camp" spread out over a dead level... more...

MEMOIR OF THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ. Of the subject of this memoir, it has been remarked, "that he has not, that we know of, written one line, which, dying, he could wish to blot." These few words will better illustrate the fitness of Mr. Campbell's portrait for our volume, than a laudatory memoir of many pages. He has not inaptly been styled the Tyrtaeus of modern English poetry, and one of... more...

PURPLE PATCHES FROM LORD YORICK'S GREAT BOOK. (Special Review.) Lord Yorick's Reminiscences, just published by the house of Hussell, abound in genial anecdote, in which the "personal note" is lightly and gracefully struck, in welcome contrast to the stodgy political memoirs with which we have been surfeited of late. We append some extracts, culled at random from these jocund pages:—... more...

Ludovick Eversole sat in the golden sunshine outside his house, writing a poem as he watched the street flow gently past him. There were very few people on it, for he lived in a slow part of town, and those who went in for travel generally preferred streets where the pace was quicker. Moreover, on a sultry spring afternoon like this one, there would be few people wandering abroad. Most would be lying... more...