CHAPTER I. Dew, Water, Rain, Snow, Hail, Atmosphere, Wind, Lightning, Thunder, Electricity, Twilight, and the Aurora Borealis. What is Dew? Moisture collected from the atmosphere by the action of cold. During the day, the powerful heat of the sun causes to arise from the earth and water a moist vapor, which, after the sun sinks below the horizon, is condensed by the cold, and falls in the form of dew.... more...

CHAPTER I THE STRANGER AT DRY BOTTOM From the crest of Three Mile Slope the man on the pony could see the town of Dry Bottom straggling across the gray floor of the flat, its low, squat buildings looking like so many old boxes blown there by an idle wind, or unceremoniously dumped there by a careless fate and left, regardless, to carry out the scheme of desolation. Apparently the rider was in no hurry,... more...

CHAPTER I. WOMAN WITHOUT THE GOSPEL. POLITICAL CONDITION.—NESTORIAN HOUSES.—VERMIN.—SICKNESS.—POSITION AND ESTIMATION OF WOMAN.—NO READERS AMONG THEM.—UNLOVELY SPIRIT.—SINS OF THE TONGUE.—PROFANITY.—LYING.—STEALING.—STORY ABOUT PINS.—IMPURITY.—MOSLEM INTERFERENCE WITH SEMINARY. We love to wander over a well-kept estate. Its green meadows and fruitful fields delight the eye.... more...

``Your father will be delighted to take you wherever there is a probability of breaking both your necks, my dear,'' said Mrs Dene. ``Griffin!'' said Ruth, giving her hand a loving little squeeze under the table. Loisl came up with his zither and they all made way before him. Anna placed a small lantern on the table and the light fell on the handsome bearded... more...

CHAPTER I.—IN THE ATTIC. I live in an attic. I am in the immediate neighbourhood of a great tavern and a famous place of amusement. The thoroughfare on which I can look whilst I sit at my window is noisy with perpetual traffic. In the midst of London I am more of a hermit than is that pretentious humbug who waves his flag at passing steamers from his rock in the Ægean. I am not a hermit from any... more...

ANGEL AGNES. May God protect you, reader of this book, from all manner of sickness; but above all, from that thrice dreaded pestilence, yellow fever. Of all the scourge ever sent upon poor sinful man, none equals in horror and loathsomeness yellow fever. Strong fathers and husbands, sons and brothers, who would face the grape-shot battery in battle, have fled dismayed from the approach of yellow fever.... more...

CHAPTER I “I say, Art, let’s take a run down to the train. There will be sure to be some of the old fellows on it and perhaps some new ones.” “Yes, for I heard the doctor tell Buck to have the coach and horses ready, as he expected several of the young gentlemen to come on the afternoon train. Why can’t we go down with Buck instead of going alone?” “Because Mr. Bucephalus, called Buck for... more...

AUGUST On the 30th of July, 1914, motoring north from Poitiers, we had lunched somewhere by the roadside under apple-trees on the edge of a field. Other fields stretched away on our right and left to a border of woodland and a village steeple. All around was noonday quiet, and the sober disciplined landscape which the traveller's memory is apt to evoke as distinctively French. Sometimes, even to... more...

ON LEAVING N—ST—D. Through the cracks in these battlements loud the winds whistle, For the hall of my fathers is gone to decay; And in yon once gay garden the hemlock and thistle Have choak'd up the rose, which late bloom'd in the way. Of the barons of old, who once proudly to battle Led their vassals from Europe to Palestine's plain; The escutcheon and shield, which with ev'ry... more...

CHAPTER I.off for greenock. The late—I had almost written the last—Imperial ruler of France was wont to say—indeed, it was his favourite maxim—“Everything comes to him who waits.”  It was not exactly true in his case.  Just as he was to have placed himself at the head of his followers, and make his reappearance in France, and to have effaced the recollections of Sedan, Death, who waits... more...