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Science may conquer the stars, but it does nothing by jumps. As a Scientist, as well as a philosopher, I am accustomed to reaching the Transcendental by winding paths. It is characteristic of me that I should have consented to preface this remarkable Sonnet Cycle only after supreme deliberation, and that I should at last have determined to speak in behalf of the Car Conductor for the following reasons:... more...

CHAPTER I WHO SOUGHT IT It was a steep trail leading over the Monterey Coast Range. Concho was very tired, Concho was very dusty, Concho was very much disgusted. To Concho's mind there was but one relief for these insurmountable difficulties, and that lay in a leathern bottle slung over the machillas of his saddle. Concho raised the bottle to his lips, took a long draught, made a wry face, and... more...

THE FAIRIES DANCINGI heardalong the early hills,Ere yet the lark was risen up,Ere yet the dawn with firelight fillsThe night-dew of the bramble-cup,—I heard the fairies in a ringSing as they tripped a lilting roundSoft as the moon on wavering wing.The starlight shook as if with sound,As if with echoing, and the starsPrankt their bright eyes with trembling gleamsWhile red with war the gusty MarsRained... more...

MY FRIENDS ARE PROVEN At the door of my lodgings I was confronted by Banks, red with indignation and fidgety from uneasiness. "O Lord, Mr. Carvel, what has happened, sir?" he cried. "Your honour's agent 'as been here since noon. Must I take orders from the likes o' him, sir?" Mr. Dix was indeed in possession of my rooms, lounging in the chair Dolly had chosen, smoking my... more...

Master Meadow Mousewas pudgy. His legs were so short and his tail was so short and his ears were so short that he looked even fatter than he really was. And goodness knows he was plump enough—especially toward fall when the corn was ripe.He lived in Farmer Green's meadow. And he never harmed anybody. For Master Meadow Mouse was fat and good-natured. Friendly folk, such as Paddy Muskrat and Billy... more...

MONKSHAVEN On the north-eastern shores of England there is a town called Monkshaven, containing at the present day about fifteen thousand inhabitants. There were, however, but half the number at the end of the last century, and it was at that period that the events narrated in the following pages occurred. Monkshaven was a name not unknown in the history of England, and traditions of its having been... more...

CHAPTER I A LETTER FROM GRANDPA "Bunny! Bunny Brown! Where are you?" Bunny's mother stood on the front porch, looking first in the yard, then up and down the street in front of the house. But she did not see her little boy. "Sue! Sue, dear! Where are you, and where is Bunny?" Again Mrs. Brown called. This time she had an answer. "Here I am, Mother. On the side porch." A... more...

Where many a cloud-wreathed mountain blanchesEternally in the blue abyss,And tosses its torrents and avalanchesThundering from cliff and precipice,There is the lovely land of the Swiss,—Land of lakes and of icy seas,Of chamois and chalets,And beautiful valleys,Musical boxes, watches, and cheese.Picturesque, with its landscapes green and cool,Sleek cattle standing in shadow or pool,And dairy-maids... more...

A procession of the damned. By the damned, I mean the excluded. We shall have a procession of data that Science has excluded. Battalions of the accursed, captained by pallid data that I have exhumed, will march. You'll read them—or they'll march. Some of them livid and some of them fiery and some of them rotten. Some of them are corpses, skeletons, mummies, twitching, tottering, animated by... more...