PRELUDE   Long, long ago when castles grim did frown,  When massy wall and gate did 'fend each town;  When mighty lords in armour bright were seen,  And stealthy outlaws lurked amid the green  And oft were hanged for poaching of the deer,  Or, gasping, died upon a hunting spear;  When barons bold did on their rights insist  And hanged or burned all rogues who dared resist;  When... more...

The four children were lying on the grass. "... and the Prince went further and further into the forest," said the elder girl, "till he came to a beautiful glade—a glade, you know, is a place in the forest that is open and green and lovely. And there he saw a lady, a beautiful lady, in a long white dress that hung down to her ankles, with a golden belt and a golden crown. She was lying on... more...

THE GHETTO I   Cool, inaccessible air  Is floating in velvety blackness shot with steel-blue lights,  But no breath stirs the heat  Leaning its ponderous bulk upon the Ghetto  And most on Hester street…   The heat…  Nosing in the body's overflow,  Like a beast pressing its great steaming belly close,  Covering all avenues of air…   The heat in Hester street,  Heaped... more...

CHAPTER I MY SPLENDID COUSIN I am eight years older now. It had never occurred to me that I am advancing in life and experience until, in setting myself to recall the various details of the affair, I suddenly remembered my timid confusion before the haughty mien of the clerk at Keith Prowse's. I had asked him: "Have you any amphitheatre seats for the Opera to-night?" He did not reply. He... more...

The Ghost. A CHRISTMAS STORY. At the West End of Boston is a quarter of some fifty streets, more or less, commonly known as Beacon Hill. It is a rich and respectable quarter, sacred to the abodes of Our First Citizens. The very houses have become sentient of its prevailing character of riches and respectability; and, when the twilight deepens on the place, or at high noon, if your vision is gifted, you... more...

THE CAST Princess Maria Theresa of Aragon. Warren Jarvis, of Kentucky. Nita, the Princess' Maid. House Detective, Manhattan Hotel. Rusty Snow, Warren Jarvis' Colored Servant. Detectives, from Police Headquarters. Hotel Porter. Steward, on S.S. Aquitania. Carlos, Duke d'Alva. Dolores, the Innkeeper's Daughter. Vardos, Messenger to the Missing Prince. Don Robledo, a Soldier of... more...

JARVIS OF KENTUCKY Down the winding roadway came the thunder of hoofbeats! As the two horsemen approached through the deepening twilight a sobbing negro woman peered timidly through the doorway of the old Southern manor house. There was a call from within. "Put out this light, Mandy," were the words of the weak voice. "Hurry, Mandy. Maybe it's the Marcums coming back." "Yas,... more...

CHAPTER I It was a warm, grey, moist evening, typical Irish weather, and Miss Berknowles was curled up in a window-seat of the library reading a book. Kilgobbin Park lay outside with the rooks cawing in the trees, miles of park land across which the dusk was coming, blotting out all things from Arranakilty to the Slieve Bloom Mountains. The turf fire burning on the great hearth threw out a rich steady... more...

GIST The Crowd is my Hero. The Hero of this book is a hundred million people. I have come to have the feeling—especially in regard to political conventions, that it might not be amiss to put forward some suggestions just now as to how a hundred million people can strike—make themselves more substantial, more important in this country, so that we shall really have in this country in time a hundred... more...

CHAPTER I THE GIRL The afternoon was intensely, terribly hot. Looked at from the high ground where they were encamped above the river, the sea, a mile or two to her right—for this was the coast of Pondo-land—to little Rachel Dove staring at it with sad eyes, seemed an illimitable sheet of stagnant oil. Yet there was no sun, for a grey haze hung like a veil beneath the arch of the sky, so dense and... more...