THE HOMECOMING OF DIEUDONNÉ LANE "Eejit! My son John! Whip ary man in Jackson County! Whoop! Come along! Who'll fight old Eph Adamson?" The populace of Spring Valley, largely assembled in the shade of the awnings which served as shelter against an ardent June sun, remained cold to the foregoing challenge. It had been repeated more than once by a stout, middle-aged man in shirt sleeves and... more...

CHAPTER I The landlord, the lady, and Mr. Charles Wogan were all three, it seemed, in luck's way that September morning of the year 1719. Wogan was not surprised, his luck for the moment was altogether in, so that even when his horse stumbled and went lame at a desolate part of the road from Florence to Bologna, he had no doubt but that somehow fortune would serve him. His horse stepped gingerly... more...

I The sergeant in charge of the clothing store was curt. He couldn't help it: he had run short of tunics, also of "pants"—except three pairs which wouldn't fit me, wouldn't fit anybody, unless we enlisted three very fat dwarfs: he had kept on asking for tunics and pants, and they'd sent him nothing but great-coats and water-bottles: I could take his word for it, he wished... more...

NIELS EBBESEN. All his men the Count collects,   And from Slesvig marched away;Never such as host was seen   Or before or since that day. Into Denmark marched the Count,   Followed by so fair a band;Banners twenty-four they bore,   Power like theirs might none withstand. Gert the Count to Randers rode,   To bad counsel lending ear;For from old it stood foretold,   He should end there his... more...

I. THE DUST IS STIRRED DUST was piled in thick, velvety folds on the weeds and grass of the open Kansas prairie; it lay, a thin veil on the scrawny black horses and the sharp-boned cow picketed near a covered wagon; it showered to the ground in little clouds as Mrs. Wade, a tall, spare woman, moved about a camp-fire, preparing supper in a sizzling skillet, huge iron kettle and blackened coffee-pot. Her... more...

SLIDE. Thus far in the student's development, his mind has dealt chiefly with each subject as a Whole. Now he begins to find a new interest in showing his hearers that the discourse is made up of a series of definite Parts. He takes delight in fixing their attention upon each part in succession. As in crossing a brook on stones, a person poises for a moment, first on one stone, then on another, so... more...

"Shoot away, Bill! never mind the old woman—she can't get over the wall to us." One day two urchins gotA pistol, powder, horn, and shot,And proudly forth they wentOn sport intent."Oh, Tom! if we should shoot a hare,"Cried one,The elder son,"How father, sure, would stare!""Look there! what's that?""Why, as I live, a cat,"Cried Bill, "'tis... more...

CHAPTER ONE "Ain't it appalling," demanded Sabrina, the Show Girl, "ain't it appalling the way the show game has gone to the morgue this season? "I never seen nothing like it since I been in the business, and while I ain't going to flash no family Bible that's been some time. Why, shows that were making money if they played to thirty-two dollars on the day just... more...

PREFACE. Several persons have asked me when Tom Slade was ever going to grow up and cease to be a Scout. The answer is that he is already grown up and that he is never going to cease to be a Scout. Once a Scout, always a Scout. To hear some people talk one would think that scouting is like the measles; that you get over it and never have it any more. Scouting is not a thing to play with, like a tin... more...

PREFACE Certain places, said Stevenson, cry out for a story, and Scott, in any new surroundings, straightway invented an appropriate tale, if there were not already a story or tradition in existence. One might even believe that the place itself tells its own tale to the sympathetic imagination. Thus Mr. Bligh Bond in his book, The Gate of Remembrance, implies that the whisperings of the genius loci... more...