CHAPTER I Say, what's next to knowin' when you're well off? Why, thinkin' you are. Which is a little nugget of wisdom I panned out durin' a chat I had not long ago with Mr. Quinn, that I used to work under when I was on the door of the Sunday sheet, three or four years back. "Hail, Torchy!" says he, as we meets accidental on Broadway. "Still carrying the burning... more...

I am the last of my type existing today in all the Solar System. I, too, am the last existing who, in memory, sees the struggle for this System, and in memory I am still close to the Center of Rulers, for mine was the ruling type then. But I will pass soon, and with me will pass the last of my kind, a poor inefficient type, but yet the creators of those who are now, and will be, long after I pass... more...

The reader may think that while coal must be a dirty cargo it is in other respects an innocent one; but there is no shipmaster who does not dread a long voyage with this kind of freight, for many a fine vessel has been lost owing to the coal taking fire through spontaneous combustion; therefore the greatest care is exercised in carrying it, and whenever the weather will permit, the hatches are opened... more...

AN INTRODUCTION by Wilson Follett Mr. Cabell, in making ready this second or intended edition of THE CORDS OF VANITY, performs an act of reclamation which is at the same time an act of fresh creation. For the purely reclamatory aspect of what he has done, his reward (so far as that can consist in anything save the doing) must come from insignificantly few directions; so few indeed that he, with a wrily... more...

CHAPTER I. Gloria sat in her favorite chair on the broad veranda. The shadow of the vines made a delicate tracery over her white dress. Gloria was lazily content. She had been comfortable and content for seventeen years. "There's that queer little thing again, going off with her queer little bag!" Gloria's gaze dwelt on the house across the wide street. Down its steps a small, neat... more...

Chapter I. The balloon seemed scarcely to move, though it was slowly sinking toward the ocean of white clouds which hung between it and the earth. The two inmates of the car were insensible; their faces were bloodless, their cheeks sunken. They were both young and handsome. Harry Johnston, an American, was as dark and sallow as a Spaniard. Charles Thorndyke, an English gentleman, had yellow hair and... more...

Part One Exploration: The Ground Yields Many ThingsByJohn L. CotterSupervising Archeologist, Colonial National Historical Park“As in the arts and sciences the first invention is of more consequence than all the improvements afterward, so in kingdoms, the first foundation, or plantation, is of more noble dignity and merit than all that followeth.”—Lord BaconIn the summer of 1934 a group of... more...

Chapter I His Inheritance It was winter--cold and snow and ice and naked trees and leaden clouds and stinging wind. The house was an ancient mansion on an old street in that city of culture which has given to the history of our nation--to education, to religion, to the sciences, and to the arts--so many illustrious names. In the changing years, before the beginning of my story, the woman's... more...

High Noon Time's finger on the dial of my lifePoints to high noon! and yet the half-spent dayLeaves less than half remaining, for the dark,Bleak shadows of the grave engulf the end. To those who burn the candle to the stick,The sputtering socket yields but little light.Long life is sadder than an early death.We cannot count on raveled threads of ageWhereof to weave a fabric. We must useThe warp... more...

  APHRODITEGreat among men, and not unnamed am I,The Cyprian, in God's inmost halls on high.And wheresoe'er from Pontus to the farRed West men dwell, and see the glad day-star,And worship Me, the pious heart I bless,And wreck that life that lives in stubbornness.For that there is, even in a great God's mind,That hungereth for the praise of human kind. So runs my word; and soon the very... more...