CHAPTER I. MISS POLLY Miss Polly Harrington entered her kitchen a little hurriedly this June morning. Miss Polly did not usually make hurried movements; she specially prided herself on her repose of manner. But to-day she was hurrying—actually hurrying. Nancy, washing dishes at the sink, looked up in surprise. Nancy had been working in Miss Polly's kitchen only two months, but already she knew... more...

INTRODUCTIONMother CareyAll-mother! Mater Cara! I have never seen you, but I hungered so to know you that I understood it when you came, unseen, and silently whispered to me that first time in the long ago. I cannot tell the children what you look like, Mother Carey, for mortal eye hath never rested on your face; and yet I can offer them a portrait, O strong Angel of the Wild Things, neither young nor... more...

PROLOGUE And as the sturdy Pilgrim Fathers cut their perilous way through the dense and dangerous depths of the Forest Primeval for the setting up of their hearthstones, so the courageous pioneers of the desolate and treeless West were forced to fight the fury of the winds. The graves of them lie mounded here and there in the uncultivated corners of the fields, though more often one wanders across the... more...

NOTES. THE OLDENBURG HORN. The highly interesting collection of pictures at Combe Abbey, the seat of the Earl of Craven, in Warwickshire, was, for the most part, bequeathed by Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, the daughter of James I., to her faithful attendant, William, Earl of Craven. The collection has remained, entire and undisturbed, up to the present time. Near the upper end of the long gallery is a... more...

Chapter I A Chance for a Position "Where are you going, Jack?" "To the shops of John Fowler & Company." "To look for a job?" "Yes." "Then you are in luck, for I heard this morning that they want another striker in the lower shop at once." "Then I'll <i>strike</i> for the opening at once, and my name is not JackNorth if I don't land... more...

CHAPTER I CAMPING IN THE BREAKER "And so I says to myself, says I, give me a good husky band of BoyScouts! They'll do the job if it can be done!" Case Canfield, caretaker, sat back in a patched chair in the dusky, unoccupied office of the Labyrinth mine and addressed himself to four lads of seventeen who were clad in the khaki uniform of the Boy Scouts of America. Those of our readers who... more...

CHRISTMAS, 1917 A key no thief can steal, no time can rust; A faery door, adventurous and golden; A palace, perfect to our eyes—Ah must Our eyes be holden? Has the past died before this present sin? Has this most cruel age already stonèd To martyrdom that magic Day, within Those halls, enthronèd? No. Through the dancing of the young spring rain, Through the faint summer, and the autumn’s burning,... more...

The beetle woke from a dreamless sleep, yawned, stretched cramped limbs and smiled to himself. In the west the sunset's last glow faded. Stars sprang out in the clear desert sky, dimmed only by the white moon that rose full and brilliant above the eastern horizon. Methodically, suppressing impatience, he went through every evening's ritual of waking. He checked his instruments, scanned the... more...

CHAPTER 1. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF QUEBEC. Quebec, founded by Samuel de Champlain, in 1608, has certainly much to recommend her, by her monuments, her historical memories and her scenery, to the traveller—the scholar—the historian. The wintering of the venturesome Jacques Cartier on the banks of the St. Charles in 1535-6, by its remoteness, is an incident of interest, not only to Canadians, but also... more...

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. "The strange sea-creatures which made their appearance." Two gentlemen of artistic and literary attainments, having studied the romances of Victor Hugo for the sake of being inspired by that Grand Old Master's style, determined to essay a "thriller" of most tragic type. These two single authors, Messrs. Wyatt and Ross, being rolled into one, wanted, like the... more...