I. After the death of Judge Kilburn his daughter came back to America. They had been eleven winters in Rome, always meaning to return, but staying on from year to year, as people do who have nothing definite to call them home. Toward the last Miss Kilburn tacitly gave up the expectation of getting her father away, though they both continued to say that they were going to take passage as soon as the... more...

PREFACE There is, perhaps, a better excuse for giving an Anthology of American Negro Poetry to the public than can be offered for many of the anthologies that have recently been issued. The public, generally speaking, does not know that there are American Negro poets—to supply this lack of information is, alone, a work worthy of somebody's effort. Moreover, the matter of Negro poets and the... more...

CHAPTER I. A mile or two from Starnberg, on the shore of the beautiful lake, stands a plain country-house, whose chief ornament is a shady and rather wild little park of beeches and cedars. This stretches from the highway that connects Starnberg with the castle and fishermen's huts of Possenhofen, down to the lake--a narrow strip of woodland, separated only by picket fences from the neighboring... more...

CHAPTER I Events have moved so rapidly in our little town of St. Ia, that it is difficult to set them down with the clearness they deserve. We Cornish people are an imaginative race, just as all people of a Celtic origin are, but we never dreamed of what has taken place. One week we were sitting idly in our boats in the bay, the next our lads had heard the call of their country, and had hurried away in... more...

CHAPTER I ONE FLEETING VISION It all happened in less than two minutes, and yet in that brief space of time his entire outlook upon life was changed. He saw her across the street standing upon the edge of the sidewalk facing the throng of teams and motors that were surging by. She had evidently attempted to cross, but had hurriedly retreated owing to the tremendous crush of traffic. The gleam of the... more...

Preface I have been asked to write a preface to these Legends of Vancouver, which, in conjunction with the members of the Publication Sub-committee—Mrs. Lefevre, Mr. L. W. Makovski and Mr. R. W. Douglas—I have helped to put through the press. But scarcely any prefatory remarks are necessary. This book may well stand on its own merits. Still, it may be permissible to record one's glad... more...

My maiden name was Marthy Cannary. I was born in Princeton, Missourri, May 1st, 1852. Father and mother were natives of Ohio. I had two brothers and three sisters, I being the oldest of the children. As a child I always had a fondness for adventure and out-door exercise and especial fondness for horses which I began to ride at an early age and continued to do so until I became an expert rider being... more...

CHAPTER I. Some Introductory Remarks. Not a Work of Compilation—Authors Quoted—Method of Reasoning—The Osteopath an Artist—When I Became an Osteopath—Dr. Neal's Opinion—The Opinions of Others—What Studies Necessary—What I Mean by Anatomy—Principles—The Practicing Osteopath's Guide—The Fascia—Not a Pleasing Task—Without Accepted Theories—Truths of Nature—Body,... more...

CHAPTER I A slightly decrepit roadster lurched to an abrupt halt in front of the Altman residence, and the blond, blue-eyed driver hailed a plump, dark-haired girl who stood on the front porch. "Hello, Susan. Been waiting long?" "Only about ten minutes, Penny." "I'm terribly sorry to be late, but I think we can still make it on time if we hurry." Before replying, Susan... more...

SMOKED SKIPPER "Wapping Old Stairs?" said the rough individual! shouldering the brand-new sea-chest, and starting off at a trot with it; "yus, I know the place, captin. Fust v'y'ge, sir?" "Ay, ay, my hearty," replied the owner of the chest, a small, ill-looking lad of fourteen. "Not so fast with those timbers of yours. D'ye hear?" "All right, sir,"... more...