The greatest master of the short story our country has known found his inspiration and produced his best work in California. It is now nearly forty years since "The Luck of Roaring Camp" appeared, and a line of successors, more or less worthy, have been following along the trail blazed by Bret Harte. They have given us matter of many kinds, realistic, romantic, tragic, humorous, weird. In this... more...

I. THE VENDER OF VIOLETS."Violets!Violets! Violets!"This was the cry I heardAs I passed through the street of a city;And quickly my heart was stirredTo an incomprehensible pity,At the undertone of the cry;For it seemed like the voice of oneWho was stricken, and all undone,Who was only longing to die."Violets! Violets! Violets!"The voice came nearer still."Surely," I said,... more...

CHAPTER I. OF PROGRESS AND THE SMALLWAYS FAMILY1"This here Progress," said Mr. Tom Smallways, "it keeps on." "You'd hardly think it could keep on," said Mr. Tom Smallways. It was along before the War in the Air began that Mr. Smallways made this remark. He was sitting on the fence at the end of his garden and surveying the great Bun Hill gas-works with an eye that neither... more...

SATANISM IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY If a short time ago that ultimate and universal source of reference, the person of average intelligence, had been asked concerning Modern Diabolism, or the Question of Lucifer,—What it is? Who are its disciples? Where is it practised? And why?—he would have replied, possibly with some asperity:—“The question of Lucifer! There is no question of Lucifer. Modern... more...

THE DREAMERS The gypsies passed her little gate—She stopped her wheel to see,—A brown-faced pair who walked the road,Free as the wind is free;And suddenly her tidy roomA prison seemed to be. Her shining plates against the walls,Her sunlit, sanded floor,The brass-bound wedding chest that heldHer linen's snowy store,The very wheel whose humming died,—Seemed only chains she bore. She watched... more...

THE SISTERS THERE was no hope for him this time: it was the third stroke. Night after night I had passed the house (it was vacation time) and studied the lighted square of window: and night after night I had found it lighted in the same way, faintly and evenly. If he was dead, I thought, I would see the reflection of candles on the darkened blind for I knew that two candles must be set at the head of a... more...

I think that every man ought to work for his living, without exception, and that when he has once avouched his willingness to work, society should provide him with work and warrant him a living. I do not think any man ought to live by an art. A man's art should be his privilege, when he has proven his fitness to exercise it, and has otherwise earned his daily bread; and its results should be free... more...

CHAPTER I Debby Alden, to use her own adjective in regard to herself, was not "slack." To this her friends added another term. Debby was "set." There could be no doubt of that. When Hester was but twelve years old, Debby had decided that the girl should have at least one year at the best boarding-school. Four years had passed, during which time, Debby's purpose had remained firm,... more...

CHAPTER THE FIRST ~~ CONCERNING A BOOK THAT WAS NEVER WRITTEN1Since I came to this place I have been very restless, wasting my energies in the futile beginning of ill-conceived books. One does not settle down very readily at two and forty to a new way of living, and I have found myself with the teeming interests of the life I have abandoned still buzzing like a swarm of homeless bees in my head. My... more...

(Beauchief Abbey.) Mr. Rhodes, the elegant topographer of the Peak, observes, "there are but few individuals in this country, possessing the means and the opportunities of travel, who have not, either from curiosity or some other motive, visited the Peak of Derbyshire." This remark is correct; and to it we may add, that the "few" who have not personally visited the Peak, have become... more...