I WINTER QUARTERS I We are getting into our stride again. Two months ago we trudged into Béthune, gaunt, dirty, soaked to the skin, and reduced to a comparative handful. None of us had had his clothes off for a week. Our ankle-puttees had long dropped to pieces, and our hose-tops, having worked under the soles of our boots, had been cut away and discarded. The result was a bare and mud-splashed... more...

L'ALLEGRO   HENCE, loathed Melancholy,  …………Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born  In Stygian cave forlorn  …………'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights  unholy!  Find out some uncouth cell,  …………Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings,  And the night-raven sings;  …………There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks,  As... more...

Fellow-Citizens of the Senate and House of Representatives: In the midst of unprecedented political troubles we have cause of great gratitude to God for unusual good health and most abundant harvests. You will not be surprised to learn that in the peculiar exigencies of the times our intercourse with foreign nations has been attended with profound solicitude, chiefly turning upon our own domestic... more...

Four Folk o’ Bristol City. “Mind your head! Crikey! That was near, ’nother inch, and you’d ha’ crushed him like an eggshell.” “Well, you told me to lower down.” “No, I didn’t, stupid.” “Yes, you did.” “No, I didn’t. You’re half tipsy, or half asleep, or—” “There, there, hold your tongue, Jem. I’m not hurt, and Mike thought you said lower away. That’s enough.”... more...

AMERICAN HOME RULE BY E.L. GODKIN American experience has been frequently cited, in the course of the controversy now raging in England over the Irish question, both by way of warning and of example. For instance, I have found in the Times as well as in other journals—the Spectator, I think, among the number—very contemptuous dismissals of the plan of offering Ireland a government like that of an... more...

CHAPTER I GRANDPA'S TENT "Bunny! Bunny Brown! There's a wagon stoppin' in front of our house!" "Is there? What kind of a wagon is it, Sue?" The little girl, who had called to her brother about the wagon, stood with her nose pressed flat against the glass of the window, looking out to where the rain was beating down on the green grass of the front yard. Bunny Brown, who... more...

CHAPTER I BEN BARCLAY MEETS A TRAMP "Give me a ride?" Ben Barclay checked the horse he was driving and looked attentively at the speaker. He was a stout-built, dark-complexioned man, with a beard of a week's growth, wearing an old and dirty suit, which would have reduced any tailor to despair if taken to him for cleaning and repairs. A loose hat, with a torn crown, surmounted a singularly... more...

CHAPTER I Really, mother, I can't sit any more. I'm that stiff!—and as cold as anything.' So said Miss Bella Morrison, as she rose from her seat with an affected yawn and stretch. In speaking she looked at her mother, and not at the painter to whom she had been sitting for nearly two hours. The young man in question stood embarrassed and silent, his palette on his thumb, brush and... more...

CHAPTER I. CHARLESTON, SEPTEMBER 27th, 1869.—It is high tide, and three o'clock in the afternoon when we leave the Battery-quay; the ebb carries us off shore, and as Captain Huntly has hoisted both main and top sails, the northerly breeze drives the "Chancellor" briskly across the bay. Fort Sumter ere long is doubled, the sweeping batteries of the mainland on our left are soon passed,... more...

I purpose this evening to call the attention of the Club to the state of anti-slavery opinions in this country just prior to the year 1800. In this examination I shall make use of a very rare pamphlet in the library of General Washington, which seems to have escaped the notice of writers on this subject; and shall preface my remarks on the main topic of discussion with a brief description of the... more...