Flying at 1600 m.p.h. you act with split-second timing after you sight the enemy. And you're allowed only one mistake—your last! My radar picked him up when he was about five hundred miles to my north-northeast and about forty-five miles above me. I switched the velocity calculator on him as fast as I could reach it. The enemy ship was doing sixteen, possibly even sixteen and a half. I took the... more...

INTRODUCTION. I. The following Dog Stories are taken from the pages of the Spectator, with the permission of the editors and proprietors. It was suggested to me by Mr. Fisher Unwin that the many strange and pleasant stories of dogs which from time to time are sent to the Spectator by its correspondents would, if put together, form a volume of no little entertainment for all who love dogs, or are... more...

THE DOG OF ST. BERNARD.   St. Bernard is the name of one of the high mountains of the Alps. The deep snow hangs so loosely on the sides of these mountains, that great masses often fall into the plains below, with a noise like thunder. Wild snow storms also come on, and the passes in the mountains become so blocked up and covered over, that it is impossible to find them out. In this way many travelers... more...

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CHAPTER I THE DILIGENCE James Therne is not my real name, for why should I publish it to the world? A year or two ago it was famous—or infamous—enough, but in that time many things have happened. There has been a war, a continental revolution, two scandals of world-wide celebrity, one moral and the other financial, and, to come to events that interest me particularly as a doctor, an epidemic of... more...

BRUSHTAIL THE FOX COMES TO THE BIG GREEN WOODS Doctor Rabbit and Cheepy Chipmunk were sitting in Doctor Rabbit's front yard talking. They laughed a good deal as they talked, for it was a lovely morning in the beautiful Big Green Woods, and everyone felt happy. Finally jolly Doctor Rabbit said he believed he would run over to the big sycamore tree to eat some more of the tender blue grass that grew... more...

DOCTOR MARIGOLD I am a Cheap Jack, and my own father’s name was Willum Marigold.  It was in his lifetime supposed by some that his name was William, but my own father always consistently said, No, it was Willum.  On which point I content myself with looking at the argument this way: If a man is not allowed to know his own name in a free country, how much is he allowed to know in a land of... more...

AT THE CORNER HOUSE. "Seek not that the things which happen should happen as you wish."—Epictetus. There is an old adage, worn almost threadbare with continual use, "When poverty looks in at the door, love flies out at the window," and, doubtless, there is an element of truth in the saying; nevertheless, though there were lines of care on Marcus Luttrell's face, and in the strong... more...

PREFACE. I must confess that I offer this romance to the reading public with no little trepidation. I am fully aware of having transcended the ordinary rules and paths of legitimate romance, and that I have presumed to broach fearlessly the deep things of God. The scope of the work is infinitely beyond the remotest thought of the writer when he began this labor; but as it grew, deepened and broadened... more...

PREFACE A preface generally begins with a truism; and I may set out with the admission that it is not always expedient to bring to light the posthumous work of great writers. A man generally contrives to publish, during his lifetime, quite as much as the public has time or inclination to read; and his surviving friends are apt to show more zeal than discretion in dragging forth from his closed desk... more...