Chapter One. I was born in the city of Delhi, in Central India, where my father held a command as major in the old East India Company’s service. I was an only son, and my mother died shortly after I was born. I resided at Delhi until I was ten years of age. Having been attended as a child by an ayah, and afterwards taught to ride by one of my father’s syces, I learned to speak Hindostani before I... more...

THE STATE PRISON IN THE TOWER. A paragraph has lately gone the round of the newspapers, in which, after mentioning the alterations recently made in the Beauchamp Tower and the opening of its "written walls" to public inspection, it is stated that this Tower was formerly the place of confinement for state prisoners, and that "Sir William Wallace and Queen Anne Boleyn" were amongst its... more...

PREFACE. The design of the projector of this volume was, that it should contain the Best of the shorter humorous poems in the literatures of England and the United States, except: Poems so local or cotemporary in subject or allusion, as not to be readily understood by the modern American reader; Poems which, from the freedom of expression allowed in the healthy ages, can not now be read aloud in a... more...

. PARIS.--THE DODGE CLUB.--HOW TO SPEAK FRENCH.--HOW TO RAISE A CROWD. ILLUSTRATIONS. Dick!--Here I Invite My Friends.--The Club.--The Place Vendôme.--Keep It Buttons! . ORLEANS.--HOW TO QUELL A LANDLORD.--HOW TO FIGHT OFF HUMBUGS; AND HOW TO TRAVEL WITHOUT BAGGAGE. ILLUSTRATIONS. That's A Hotel Bill.--Cicero Against Verres. --Sac-r-r-r-ré. . THE RHONE IN A RAIN.--THE MAD FRENCHMAN.--SUICIDE A... more...

I The convict gang had a pleasant place to work to-day. Their road building had taken them some miles from the scattered outskirts of Walla Walla, among fields green with growing barley. The air was fresh and sweet; the Western meadow larks, newly come, seemed in imminent danger of splitting their own throats through the exuberance of their song. Even the steel rails of the Northern Pacific, running... more...

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CHAPTER I A BOY AND HIS DOG Penrod sat morosely upon the back fence and gazed with envy at Duke, his wistful dog. A bitter soul dominated the various curved and angular surfaces known by a careless world as the face of Penrod Schofield. Except in solitude, that face was almost always cryptic and emotionless; for Penrod had come into his twelfth year wearing an expression carefully trained to be... more...

Dinner was over, and Mme. Constantin and her guests were seated under the lighted candles in her cosey salon. With the serving of the coffee and cigarettes, pillows had been adjusted to bare shoulders, stools moved under slippered feet, and easy lounges pushed nearer the fire. Greenough, his long body aslant, his head on the edge of a chair, his feet on the hearth rug, was blowing rings to the ceiling.... more...

Personal. AMERICAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCESOFFICE OF THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF France, August 17, 1918. Mr. Floyd Gibbons,Care Chicago Tribune,420 Sue Saint-Honore,Paris. Dear Mr. Gibbons: At this time, when you are returning to America, I wish to express to you my appreciation of the cordial cooperation and assistance you have always given us in your important work as correspondent of the Chicago Tribune in... more...

THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE.hat's Geoff, I'm sure," said Elsa; "I always know his ring. I do hope——" and she stopped and sighed a little."What?" said Frances, looking up quickly. "Oh, nothing particular. Run down, Vic, dear, and get Geoff to go straight into the school-room. Order his tea at once. I don't want him to come upstairs just now. Mamma is so busy and... more...