NOTICE. the name of Isaac Reggio of Goritz, is now a celebrity in the Hebrew literary world. A man of vast mind, a profound scholar, a philosopher, and an elegant writer, his numerous works on Theology, Hermeneutics, Philology, History, and Literature, written in Hebrew, in Italian, and in German, have tended much to revive the taste for Hebrew literature, and to reconcile modern education to the study... more...

INTRODUCTION Having read with much care the proof sheets of this book, I am prepared to say three things about it, and it gives me pleasure to say them here. THE BOOK IS WELL NAMED. "THE UNFOLDING LIFE." Turn which way we will, we see life unfolding all about us, and yet how faintly are its mysteries understood! And is it not the one thing above all others, which teachers, mothers, fathers and... more...

The Sunny Side of Diplomatic Life WASHINGTON, 1875-1880 WASHINGTON, November, 1875. Dear Mother,—After my hurriedly written letter of the 24th you will know that we have arrived here safely. My first introduction to my first post as diplomat's wife was made unwittingly by a gentleman walking with a friend just behind me. "Who is that gentleman?" said he, indicating Johan. "That? That... more...

THE THREE BEARS. THERE were once three bears, who lived in a wood,Their porridge was thick, and their chairs and beds good.The biggest bear, Bruin, was surly and rough;His wife, Mrs. Bruin, was called Mammy Muff.Their son, Tiny-cub, was like Dame Goose’s lad;He was not very good, nor yet very bad.Now Bruin, the biggest—the surly old bear—Had a great granite bowl, and a cast-iron chair.Mammy Muffs... more...

CHAPTER I. THE EMIGRANTS. "What makes you keep that big blue sun-bonnet drawn so closely over your face? are you afraid of having it seen?" The person addressed was a pale, sickly-looking child about nine years of age, who, on the deck of the vessel Windermere, was gazing intently towards the distant shores of old England, which were fast receding from view. Near her a fine-looking boy of... more...

I Strings in the earth and airMake music sweet;Strings by the river whereThe willows meet. There's music along the riverFor Love wanders there,Pale flowers on his mantle,Dark leaves on his hair. All softly playing,With head to the music bent,And fingers strayingUpon an instrument. The twilight turns from amethystTo deep and deeper blue,The lamp fills with a pale green glowThe trees of the avenue.... more...

Introductory. When even a quite intelligent person hears about "Aboriginal American Literature," he is very excusable for asking: What is meant by the term? Where is this literature? In fine, Is there any such thing? To answer such inquiries, I propose to treat, with as much brevity as practicable, of the literary efforts of the aborigines of this continent, a chapter in the general History of... more...

CHAPTER I "Tschah!" exclaimed old Roland suddenly, after he had remained motionless for a quarter of an hour, his eyes fixed on the water, while now and again he very slightly lifted his line sunk in the sea. Mme. Roland, dozing in the stern by the side of Mme. Rosemilly, who had been invited to join the fishing-party, woke up, and turning her head to look at her husband, said: "Well, well!... more...

CHAPTER I THE AMERICAN—WHO HE IS Many of the great powers believe themselves to be passing through an evolutionary period leading to civic and national perfection. America, or the United States, has already reached this state; it is complete and finished. I have this from the Americans themselves, so there can be no question about it; hence it requires no little temerity to discuss, let alone... more...

A SOCIAL IMPOSSIBILITY It was one of November's rare days. The kindly air, vital with the breath of the north wind and mellow with the genial sun, was full of purple haze; the grass, still vividly green, gave no hint of the coming winter; the trees, bony and bare but for a few rags of summer dress, russet-brown and gold, stood softened of all their harshness in the purple haze and slanting, yellow... more...