THE SUNDERING FLOOD Chapter I. Of a River Called the Sundering Flood, and of the Folk that Dwelt Thereby It is told that there was once a mighty river which ran south into the sea, and at the mouth thereof was a great and rich city, which had been builded and had waxed and thriven because of the great and most excellent haven which the river aforesaid made where it fell into the sea. And now it was... more...

When Gerrit S. Miller, Jr., published his "Revision of the North American Bats of the Family Vespertilionidae" (N. Amer. Fauna, 13:1-140, 3 pls., 39 figs. in text, October 16, 1897), the red bat, Lasiurus borealis, was known from the southern half of Mexico but he did not know that the hoary bat, Lasiurus cinereus, also occurred there. Therefore, the name A[talapha]. mexicana Saussure (Revue et... more...

To begin, I am a Frenchman, a teacher of languages, and a poor man,—necessarily a poor man, as the great world would say, or I should not be a teacher of languages, and my wife a copyist of great pictures, selling her copies at small prices. In our own eyes, it is true, we are not so poor—my Clélie and I. Looking back upon our past we congratulate ourselves upon our prosperous condition. There was... more...

CHAPTER I THE EYES OF DREAD "What's the matter, Raal? You seem to be worried about something." Dick Oakwood, blue eyed and smiling and resembling a blond savage in his garb of soft zebra skin, glanced down at his chief warrior who prostrated himself at the feet of the boy king. "Tahara, hal! Come quickly, O Master!" replied Raal, his whole body expressing fear. "What is it,... more...

THE CHARITABLE CHUMS' BENEFIT CLUB.   The 'Mother Bunch' public-house stands modestly aside from the din, traffic, and turmoil of a leading London thoroughfare, and retires, like a bashful maiden, from the gaze of a crowd to the society of its own select circle. It is situated in a short and rather narrow street, leading from an omnibus route running north from the city to nowhere in... more...

I. EARLY LIFE. The poet and the novelist write largely out of personal experience, and must give expression to the effects of their own history. What they have seen and felt, gives shape and tone to what they write; that which is nearest their own hearts is poured forth in their books. To ignore these influences is to overlook a better part of what they write, and is often to lose the explanation of... more...

CHAPTER I. PERILS OF THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL. "How is the cripple crowd coming on these days? Hello! Step Hen, any more snake bites? Hope you're not limping with that other leg, now?" "I should say not, Thad. But I'm always going to believe you did a lot to keep the poison from getting into my system, when you sucked that wound." "And how about your game limb, Giraffe—was it... more...

TWO RUNAWAYS FROM LONESOME The days of that April had been days of mist and rain. Sometimes, for hours, there would come a miracle of blue sky, white cloud, and yellow light, but always between dark and dark the rain would fall and the mist creep up the mountains and steam from the tops—only to roll together from either range, drip back into the valleys, and lift, straightway, as mist again. So that,... more...

Chapter I. HIS RETURN FROM EXILE. Cicero's life for the next two years was made conspicuous by a series of speeches which were produced by his exile and his return. These are remarkable for the praise lavished on himself, and by the violence with which he attacked his enemies. It must be owned that never was abuse more abusive, or self-praise uttered in language more laudatory. Cicero had now done... more...

CHAPTER I. Jacky.—His brothers and sisters.—His cottage home.—What happened to the little pet-dog.—How Jacky's father forgave the wicked men of Epworth.—"Fire! Fire!" ONG, long ago, more than one hundred and fifty years, lived the hero of this book. Because his name was John, everybody called him Jack or Jacky; and by everybody I mean his dear, good father and mother, and his... more...