RECOGNITION. "Francesca," I said, "have you seen it?" "It? What?" "The announcement." "What announcement?" "I have been gazetted," I said. "Did it hurt much?" she said. "Or were you able to bear it without a murmur?" "It's in The Times," I said, "and you shall read it, whether you like it or not. It's in the place... more...

It is evening; the sun is setting, and the shepherd, who tends the flocks of little Mary's Papa, is, with his good little dog, driving the sheep to the fold, where they will rest in safety. That is his cottage which stands on the other side of the road.The tongs stood in the room where Mary oft staid,And the lantern gave light to the hall where she play'd.The table was placed in the corner... more...

It was still the Wild West in those days, the Far West, the West of Owen Wister's stories and Frederic Remington's drawings, the West of the Indian and the buffalo-hunter, the soldier and the cowpuncher. That land of the West has gone now, "gone, gone with lost Atlantis," gone to the isle of ghosts and of strange dead memories. It was a land of vast silent spaces, of lonely rivers,... more...

CHAPTER I. And look how many Grecian tents do standHollow upon this plain—so many hollow factions.Troilus and Cressida. In a hollow of the hill, about a quarter of a mile from the field of battle, was a shepherd's hut; a miserable cottage, which, as the only enclosed spot within a moderate distance, the leaders of the presbyterian army had chosen for their council-house. Towards this spot Burley... more...

ARMS AND THE MAID Through the gateway flanked by tall recruiting posters came rather hurriedly a youth of no great stature, but of sturdy build and comely enough countenance, including bright brown eyes and fresh complexion. Though the dull morning was coldish, perspiration might have been detected on his forehead. Crossing the street, without glance to right or left, he increased his pace; also, he... more...

CHAPTER I. As Clarence Brant, President of the Robles Land Company, and husband of the rich widow of John Peyton, of the Robles Ranche, mingled with the outgoing audience of the Cosmopolitan Theatre, at San Francisco, he elicited the usual smiling nods and recognition due to his good looks and good fortune. But as he hurriedly slipped through the still lingering winter's rain into the smart coupe... more...

THE GUESTS OF HERCULES Long shadows of late afternoon lay straight and thin across the garden path; shadows of beech trees that ranged themselves in an undeviating line, like an inner wall within the convent wall of brick; and the soaring trees were very old, as old perhaps as the convent itself, whose stone had the same soft tints of faded red and brown as the autumn leaves which sparsely jewelled the... more...

INTRODUCTION. I. The last century was yet in its infancy when the author of The Romany Rye first saw the light in the sleepy little East Anglian township of East Dereham, in the county distinguished by Borrow as the one in which the people eat the best dumplings in the world and speak the purest English.  “Pretty quiet D[ereham]” was the retreat in those days of a Lady Bountiful in the person of... more...

CHAPTER I "ZINSHEIMER, OF NEW YORK" Stick a pin in the map of southern Indiana, half an inch to the left of Lost River, and about six hours from the rest of the world, as time is used to measure railroad journeys, and you will find a speck called French Lick Springs. Hidden away in the hills, so remote from the centers of civilization that only wealthy inebriates and chronic invalids can afford... more...

No. IV.—THE WILD DUCK. ACT I. At WERLE's house. In front a richly-upholstered study. (R.) a green-baize door leading to WERLE's office. At back, open folding doors, revealing an elegant dining-room, in which a brilliant Norwegian dinner-party is going on. Hired Waiters in profusion. A glass is tapped with a knife. Shouts of "Bravo!" Old Mr. WERLE is heard making a long speech,... more...