THE WINDOWS You will remember that Socrates considers every soul of us to be at least three persons. He says, in a fine figure, that we are two horses and a charioteer. "The right-hand horse is upright and cleanly made; he has a lofty neck and an aquiline nose; his colour is white and his eyes dark; he is a lover of honour and modesty and temperance, and the follower of true glory; he needs no... more...

THE END OF THE JUBILEE. I've been to the Abbey, the Naval Review, The Maske at Gray's Inn and the Institute too; In fact I feel just like the Wandering Jew, Or other historical rover: I've turned day into night and the night into day, In a regular rollicking Jubilee way, And now I can truly and thankfully say, I'm uncommonly glad that it's over. I've been to a number of... more...

CASTLE OF THE SEVEN TOWERS AT CONSTANTINOPLE 1. Triumphal Arch of Constantine. 2. First Tower of the Pentagon. 3. First Marble Tower. 4. Second Marble Tower. 5. Angle of the Pentagon with the fallen Tower. 6. Double Tower. 7. Dedecagonal tower. 8. Square Tower of entrance to the Prison. 9. Round Tower falling to decay. 10. House of the Aga, &c. 11. Garden of the Aga's House. 12. Cemetery of... more...

CHAPTER I. June 18—. Squire Hawkins sat upon the pyramid of large blocks, called the "stile," in front of his house, contemplating the morning. The locality was Obedstown, East Tennessee. You would not know that Obedstown stood on the top of a mountain, for there was nothing about the landscape to indicate it—but it did: a mountain that stretched abroad over whole counties, and rose... more...

OUTSIDE THE GLASS DOORS I like discipline. I like to be part of an institution. It gives one more liberty than is possible among three or four observant friends.   It is always cool and wonderful after the monotone of the dim hospital, its half-lit corridors stretching as far as one can see, to come out into the dazzling starlight and climb the hill, up into the trees and shrubberies here. The wind... more...

CHAPTER I EARLY DAYS AT SCHOOL AND COLLEGE The name of Andrew Marvell ever sounds sweet, and always has, to use words of Charles Lamb’s, a fine relish to the ear. As the author of poetry of exquisite quality, where for the last time may be heard the priceless note of the Elizabethan lyricist, whilst at the same moment utterance is being given to thoughts and feelings which reach far forward to... more...

CHAPTER IUNDERGROUND TERRORS "Ay, lad," said the old miner, the pale flame of his cap-lamp lighting up his wrinkled face and throwing a distorted shadow on the wall of coal behind, "there's goin' to be a plenty of us killed soon." "Likely enough, if they're all as careless as you," Clem retorted. "Carelessness ain't got nothin' to do with it,"... more...

JOHN ALBION ANDREW. THE "WAR-GOVERNOR" OF MASSACHUSETTS. John Albion Andrew, the twenty-first Governor of Massachusetts, was born, May 31, 1818, at Windham, a small town near Portland, Maine. His father was Jonathan Andrew, who had established himself in Windham as a small trader; his mother was Nancy Green Pierce, of New Hampshire, who was a teacher in the celebrated academy at Fryeburg, where... more...

AN IDYL OF THE ROAD   aroline rocked herself back and forth from her waist, defying the uncompromisingly straight chair which inclosed her portly little person. "Bounded 'n th' north by Mass'joosetts; bounded 'n th' north by Mass'joosetts; bounded 'n th' north by Mass'joosetts," she intoned in a monotonous chant. But her eyes were not upon the map;... more...

CHAPTER I A Historic Moment The morning of June 13, 1917, was one of the historic mornings in the history of the world. On the landing dock at Boulogne, France, a detachment of French infantry was drawn up in line. The men were clad in the uniform of battle. Their faces confirmed the report that recently they had seen hard service in the trenches—as they had. Not a young soldier was in the... more...