HELL BENT Twenty thousand of the thirty thousand lumber-jacks and river-pigs of the Minnesota woods are hilariously in pursuit of their own ruin for lack of something better to do in town. They are not nice, enlightened men, of course; the debauch is the traditional diversion–the theme of all the brave tales to which the youngsters of the bunk-houses listen in the lantern-light and dwell upon after... more...

THERE is certainly no style of writing requiring so much modest assurance as autobiography; a position which, I am confident, neither Lord Cherbury, nor Vidocq, or any other mortal blessed with an equal developement of the organ of self-esteem, can or could deny. HOME, ("sweet home,")—in his Douglas—gives, perhaps, one of the most concise and concentrated specimens extant, of this species... more...

CHAPTER I MR. CRAIG ARRAYS HIMSELF It was one of the top-floor-rear flats in the Wyandotte, not merely biggest of Washington's apartment hotels, but also "most exclusive"—which is the elegant way of saying most expensive. The Wyandotte had gone up before landlords grasped the obvious truth that in a fire-proof structure locations farthest from noise and dust should and could command... more...

COMPOSITION. 'Genius is the power of making efforts.' Erroneous opinions, once formed, seldom fail to affect the taste of a man's character through his whole life. It is, therefore, of the utmost necessity that his conduct be rightly directed. 'Art will not descend to us, we must be made to reach and aspire to it.' 'The great art to learn much,' says Locke, 'is... more...

EROS The sense of the world is short,—Long and various the report,—To love and be beloved;Men and gods have not outlearned it;And, how oft soe'er they've turned it,'Tis not to be improved. Ralph Waldo Emerson [1803-1882] "NOW WHAT IS LOVE" Now what is Love, I pray thee, tell?It is that fountain and that wellWhere pleasure and repentance dwell;It is, perhaps, the sauncing... more...

A POEM to the memory of our late lamentedQueen Caroline. As a Briton, this tribute I pay to my Queen,Who late fell a martyr to malice and spleen;To add to her sorrows in this fleeting life,Misfortune had made her a young widow’d wife.England saw Brunswick’s daughter surrounded by foes;And, therefore determin’d their arts to oppose.Corruption those minions so much can increase,As to play with our... more...

CHAPTER I. "Adieu, adieu! my native shoreFades o'er the waters blue,The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,And shrieks the wild sea-mew.Yon sun that sets upon the seaWe follow in his flight;Farewell awhile to him and thee,My native Land—Good night!"—BYRON. Late in the fall of the year 18—, I embarked on board the ship Cosmo, bound from the port of Bristol to that of New York. The... more...

THE DIVINE DISCONTENT I It was the last Sunday in May, and in another week the annual flight to the seashore and the mountains would have begun again. The breezes stealing into the church through the open casements wafted hither and thither the odours of the chancel flowers, and mingled with those fainter and subtler perfumes set free by the rustling of summer gowns. As on this day he surveyed his... more...

CHARLES READE. Some one lately took occasion, in passing, to class Charles Reade with the clever writers of the day, sandwiching him between Anthony Trollope and Wilkie Collins,—for no other reason, apparently, than that he never, with Chinese accuracy, gives us gossiping drivel that reduces life to the dregs of the commonplace, or snarls us in any inextricable tangle of plots. Charles Reade is not a... more...

Fellow-Citizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: We have reason to renew the expression of our devout gratitude to the Giver of All Good for His benign protection. Our country presents on every side the evidences of that continued favor under whose auspices it, has gradually risen from a few feeble and dependent colonies to a prosperous and powerful confederacy. We are blessed with domestic... more...