STORY I CURLY TWISTYTAIL IS NAMED Once upon a time, not so very many years ago, in the days when there were fairies and giants and all things like that, there lived in a little house, on the edge of a wood, a family of pigs. Now these pigs weren't like the pigs, which perhaps you children have seen on most farms. No, indeed! They were just the nicest cleanest, sweetest pigs you ever dreamed... more...

DREAMS The man, for the first time, stood face to face with Life and, for the first time, knew that he was a man. For a long time he had known that some day he would be a man. But he had always thought of his manhood as a matter of years. He had said to himself: "when I am twenty-one, I will be a man." He did not know, then, that twenty-one years—that indeed three times twenty-one... more...

The few pages of which the present edition is composed, were principally written under the circumstances there stated, which had forcibly called my attention to the fatal effects of those ever-recurring tempests, which scatter devastation and misery round our coasts, where the veteran commander and his hardy crew, with their helpless passengers of every age and station in life, are left wretchedly to... more...

CHAPTER I. THE BRADYS AS CUSTOM HOUSE DETECTIVES. The Collector of the Port of New York sat in his office in the Custom House with a look of annoyance upon his face. Several of his chief inspectors were standing about the room with the most uneasy expressions, for they were being censured unmercifully. "I tell you, gentlemen," the Collector was saying, angrily, "I am very much disgusted... more...

CHAPTER I. I was born in Liverpool, on the 4th of June in 1769 or ’70.  I am consequently about ninety-three years old.  My friends say I am a wonderful old man.  I believe I am.  I have always enjoyed such excellent health, that I do not know what the sensation is of a medical man putting his finger on my wrist.  I have eaten and drunk in moderation, slept little, risen early, and kept a clear... more...

MARSTON; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN. PART II."Have I not in my time heard lions roar?Have I not heard the sea, puft up with wind,Rage like all angry boar chafed with sweat?Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?Have I not in the pitched battle heardLoud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets clang?" SHAKSPEARE. My entertainer... more...

THE NEW MARVEL IN PHOTOGRAPHY. A VISIT TO PROFESSOR RÖNTGEN AT HIS LABORATORY IN WÜRZBURG.—HIS OWN ACCOUNT OF HIS GREAT DISCOVERY.—INTERESTING EXPERIMENTS WITH THE CATHODE RAYS.—PRACTICAL USES OF THE NEW PHOTOGRAPHY. By H.J.W. Dam. PICTURE OF AN ALUMINIUM CIGAR-CASE, SHOWING CIGARS WITHIN. From a photograph by A.A.C. Swinton, Victoria Street, London. Exposure, ten minutes. N all the history of... more...

A FEW WORDS TO OUR FRIENDS. In our opening Address we carefully avoided any thing at all approaching to a boast of what we would, or even what we hoped to perform. We stated that "we would rather give a specimen than a description." We are now in like manner unwilling to point as exultingly, as we think we might, to the position which we have already taken. But there is a vast difference... more...

The wind stirred in the weighted pines; the snow lay on the ground. Here and there on its smooth, white expanse footprints betokened the woodland gentry abroad. In the pallid glister of the moon, even amid the sparse, bluish shadows of the leafless trees, one might discriminate the impression of the pronged claw of the wild turkey, the short, swift paces of the mink, the padded, doglike paw of the... more...

TWO PAIRS OF SHOES I don't exactly know why Cap'n Jonadab and me went to the post-office that night; we wa'n't expecting any mail, that's sartin. I guess likely we done it for the reason the feller that tumbled overboard went to the bottom—'twas the handiest place TO go. Anyway we was there, and I was propping up the stove with my feet and holding down a chair with the... more...