I.—DEATH I.—Death. A Philosophical Discussion The back parlor of any average American home. The blinds are drawn and a single gas-jet burns feebly. A dim suggestion of festivity: strange chairs, the table pushed back, a decanter and glasses. A heavy, suffocating, discordant scent of flowers—roses, carnations, lilies, gardenias. A general stuffiness and mugginess, as if it were raining outside,... more...

We have before us a volume of autograph letters, chiefly of soldiers and statesmen of the Revolution, and addressed to a good and brave man, General Palmer, who himself drew his sword in the cause. They are profitable reading in a quiet afternoon, and in a mood withdrawn from too intimate relation with the present time; so that we can glide backward some three quarters of a century, and surround... more...

AN ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. A heartfelt greeting to you, my young friends; a merry Christmas and a happy New Year to you all. Of all the three hundred and sixty–five days none are fraught with the same interest—there is not one on which all mankind expect so great an amount of enjoyment, as those we now celebrate: for all now try not only to be happy themselves, but to make others so too. All consider... more...

A BOOK FOR KIDS THE BAKER   I'd like to be a baker, and come when morning breaks,Calling out, "Beeay-ko!" (that's the sound he makes)--Riding in a rattle-cart that jogs and jolts and shakes,Selling all the sweetest things a baker ever bakes;Currant-buns and brandy-snaps, pastry all in flakes;But I wouldn't be a baker if . . .I couldn't eat the cakes.Would you? THE DAWN... more...

A law-student of the present day finds it difficult to realize the brightness and domestic decency which characterized the Inns of Court in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries. Under existing circumstances, women of character and social position avoid the gardens and terraces of Gray's Inn and the Temple. Attended by men, or protected by circumstances that guard them from... more...

INTRODUCTORY NOTE ROBERT BROWNING stands, in respect to his origin and his career, in marked contrast to the two aristocratic poets beside whose dramas his "Blot in the 'Scutcheon" is here printed. His father was a bank clerk and a dissenter at a time when dissent meant exclusion from Society; the poet went neither to one of the great public schools nor to Oxford or Cambridge; and no... more...

A REJECTED MANUSCRIPT. "A letter for Mr. Roseleaf," he heard his landlady say to the chambermaid. And he was quite prepared to hear the girl reply, in a tone of surprise: "For Mr. Roseleaf! This is the first letter he has had since he came." The young man referred to stood just within his chamber door, waiting with some anxiety for the letter to be brought to him. He was about twenty... more...

A BIT OF SUNSHINE. "Mam-ma," said Kate, as she stood at the door, which she had o-pened to let puss in, "may I not go out and play? the clouds are all gone and the sun shines bright and warm." "But the grass must be quite soaked af-ter all the rain," said mam-ma. "I will tell you what to do; run to pa-pa, and ask him if he will not take us to drive." Pa-pa was just... more...

"It is but a step from Confucius to confusion," said I, in a brief discussion of the Chinese question. "Then let us take it by all means," replied the artist, who had been an indulgent listener for at least ten minutes. We were strolling upon the verge of the Chinese Quarter in San Francisco, and, turning aside from one of the chief thoroughfares of the city, we plunged into the busiest... more...

ACT I It is Ascension Day in a village of the West. In the lowpanelled hall-sittingroom of the BURLACOMBE'S farmhouse on thevillage green, MICHAEL STRANGWAY, a clerical collar round histhroat and a dark Norfolk jacket on his back, is playing theflute before a very large framed photograph of a woman, which isthe only picture on the walls. His age is about thirty-five hisfigure thin and very upright... more...