CHAPTER I Stanbury Hill, remote but two hours' walk from a region blasted with mine and factory and furnace, shelters with its western slope a fair green valley, a land of meadows and orchard, untouched by poisonous breath. At its foot lies the village of Wanley. The opposite side of the hollow is clad with native wood, skirting for more than a mile the bank of a shallow stream, a tributary of the... more...

IN A BACK ROOM"For one shall grasp, and one resign,One drink life's rue, and one its wine,And God shall make the balance good."—Whittier. Elsie Kilner had a battle to fight, and it must be fought after her own fashion. It was the kind of battle which is fought every day and every hour; but the battlefield is always a silent place, and there is neither broken weapon nor crimson stain to... more...

CHAPTER I. HOW MOTHER MICHEL MADE THE ACQUAINTANCE OFHER CAT. here lived in Paris, under the reign of King Louis XV., a very rich old countess named Yolande de la Grenouillère. She was a worthy and charitable lady, who distributed alms not only to the poor of her own parish, Saint-Germain-l’Auxerrois, but to the unfortunate of other quarters. Her husband, Roch-Eustache-Jérémie, Count of... more...

CHAPTER I. GEOGRAPHICAL OUTLINE OF ITALY. Italia! oh, Italia! thou who hastThe fatal gift of beauty, which becameA funeral dower of present woes and past,On thy sweet brow is sorrow plough'd by shame,And annals traced in characters of flame.—Byron. 1. The outline of Italy presents a geographical unity and completeness which naturally would lead us to believe that it was regarded as a whole, and... more...

CHAPTER I. A MIDNIGHT SUMMONS "When did you last hear from Nayland Smith?" asked my visitor. I paused, my hand on the syphon, reflecting for a moment. "Two months ago," I said; "he's a poor correspondent and rather soured, I fancy." "What—a woman or something?" "Some affair of that sort. He's such a reticent beggar, I really know very little about... more...

PRICE SIXPENCE. Oh! on this green and mossy seat,In my hours of sweet retreat;Thus I would my soul employ,With sense of gratitude and joy.! farewell! the trumpet calls,The banner waves in view;And I must bid these friendly halls,One long! one last adieu! The dappled herd of grazing deer,That seek the shades by day;Now started from their path with fear,To give the stranger way. This is the valiant... more...

Just before the close of the performances at Niblo's Garden, where the Jarrett combination was then playing, one evening in the latter part of June, 1862, two young men came out from the doorway of the theatre and took their course up Broadway toward the Houston Street corner. Any observer who might have caught a clear view of the faces of the two as they passed under one of the large lamps at the... more...

VERSE: A LEGEND OF PROVENCE The lights extinguished, by the hearth I leant,Half weary with a listless discontent.The flickering giant-shadows, gathering near,Closed round me with a dim and silent fear.All dull, all dark; save when the leaping flame,Glancing, lit up a Picture’s ancient frame.Above the hearth it hung.  Perhaps the night,My foolish tremors, or the gleaming light,Lent power to that... more...

Excuse me, sirs, I pray—I can't yet speak—I'm crying now—and have been all the week."'Tis not alone this mourning suit," good masters:"I've that within"—for which there are no plasters!Pray, would you know the reason why I'm crying?The Comic Muse, long sick, is now a-dying!And if she goes, my tears will never stop;For as a player, I can't squeeze... more...

TO THE QUEEN. (From the Nation.) Queenly as womanly, those words that start From sorrow's lip strike home to sorrow's heart. Madam, our griefs are one; But yours, from kinship close and your high place, The keener, mourning him in youth's glad grace Who loved you as a son. We mourn him too. Our wreaths of votive flowers Speak, mutely, for us. The deep gloom that lowers To-day across the... more...