CHAPTER I—THE DESCENT “But you can’t do it, you know,” friends said, to whom I applied for assistance in the matter of sinking myself down into the East End of London.  “You had better see the police for a guide,” they added, on second thought, painfully endeavouring to adjust themselves to the psychological processes of a madman who had come to them with better credentials than brains.... more...

Three White Ones. Tick, tap, tap—tap, ticker—ticker—tapper—tapper; tick—teck, tacker—tap went a typewriting machine, and scratch—scratch went two pens, in one of the minor offices connected with that vast wealth-producing industry known as the De Beers Diamond-Mines, where, seated at desk and table, three young men were hard at work, one manipulating the typewriter, one writing a letter,... more...

PROSPECTUS. The advantages of a correct judgment and refined taste in all matters connected with literature, are much greater than men in general imagine. The hateful passions have no greater enemies than a delicate taste and a discerning judgment, which give the possessor an interest in the virtues and perfections of others, and prompt him to admire, to cherish, and make them known to the world.... more...

Foreword In California's imaginary Hall of Fame, Bret Harte must be accorded a prominent, if not first place. His short stories and dialect poems published fifty years ago made California well known the world over and gave it a romantic interest conceded no other community. He saw the picturesque and he made the world see it. His power is unaccountable if we deny him genius. He was essentially an... more...

"JESUS SAYS SO." Sarah G—— was one of several children, living with their parents in a narrow lane in London. Early in the year 1847, Sarah's father had met with a serious accident, and was then in the hospital, where he remained for many weeks a severe sufferer. Sarah and her brothers, deprived of the usual means of support, and their mother being in constant attendance on her... more...

I. CHRISTMAS AT FEZZIWIG'S WAREHOUSE CHARLES DICKENS "Yo Ho! my boys," said Fezziwig. "No more work to-night! Christmas Eve, Dick! Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up!" cried old Fezziwig with a sharp clap of his hands, "before a man can say Jack Robinson...." "Hilli-ho!" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from the high desk with wonderful agility.... more...

The War Between Freedom And Slavery In Missouri. It is admitted that no man can write the history of his own times with such fullness and impartiality as shall entitle his record to the unquestioning credence and acceptance of posterity. Men are necessarily actors in the scenes amid which they live. If not personally taking an active part in the conduct of public affairs, they have friends who are, and... more...

CHAPTER I. Something unusual was about to happen—any one could see that; the tall pine trees swayed and nodded to each other as if whispering together, the leaves blew up against a corner of the fence as though they meant to sweep the old-fashioned brick path clean, and the gate swung to and fro on its hinges as in anticipation of a visitor. In a far-away corner of the United States stood an old... more...

AFTER ALL, WHAT IS POETRY? BY JOHN RAYMOND HOWARD. Considering the immense volume of poetical writing produced, and lost or accumulated, by all nations through the ages, it is of curious interest that no generally accepted definition of the word "Poetry" has ever been made. Of course, all versifiers aim at "poetry"; yet, what is poetry? Many definitions have been attempted. Some of... more...

Our Missions And Missionaries. It is our custom to publish in the second issue of the Magazine for each year a catalogue of the churches, institutions and schools into which we place the offerings devoted by those who send them, to the great work of the American Missionary Association. If our readers will look carefully at this, and preserve it for future reference, they will come into sympathy more... more...