I The devotees of Apollo have to give a good account of themselves in Olympia before, they can become persona grata on Olympus. They spend their lives, more or less, at the various games of poetry. Some, like Goethe, win in the majority of trials, and then we study all of their records regardless of their individual excellence. Some like Immermann in Oberhof, win only once, but this is sufficient to... more...

CHAPTER I. Archibald Dundass was a rich Jamaica planter, whose estates were situated in one of the most delightful regions in that garden of the West India isles. His wife, an English lady, of great personal attractions and highly connected, died when Helen, their only child, had just entered her thirteenth year, an age when, perhaps, a mother's counsel and tender guidance is most required. When... more...

It was a glad day in Venice. The eve of the feast of the Purification had arrived, and all those maidens of the Republic, whose names had been written in the "Book of Gold," were assembled with their parents, their friends and lovers—a beautiful and joyous crowd—repairing, in the gondolas provided by the Republic, to the church of San Pietro de Castella, at Olivolo, which was the residence... more...

CHAPTER I. ALDINGTON VILLAGE—THE MANOR HOUSE—THE FARM.      "There's a divinity that shapes our ends."                                              —Hamlet.      "Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard... more...

CHAPTER I A MESSAGE FROM THE WOODFOLK Nimble-toes Field-mouse trotted briskly along the dark subway and up the steep attic stairway in Mr. Giant's house. He had travelled a long way from his woodland home and it was getting late. The door of the cosy attic where Cousin Graymouse lived was ajar. Nimble-toes paused to get his breath and peep in at the busy, happy family. Mother Graymouse sat in her... more...

Happy nowadays is the tourist, with earth's wonders, new and old, spread invitingly open before him, and a host of able workers as his slaves making everything easy, padding plush about him, grading roads for him, boring tunnels, moving hills out of his way, eager, like the devil, to show him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory and foolishness, spiritualizing travel for him with... more...

INTRODUCTION According to the Spanish critics, the novel has flourished in Spain during only two epochs—the golden age of Cervantes and the period in which we are still living. That unbroken line of romance-writing which has existed for so long a time in France and in England, is not to be looked for in the Peninsula. The novel in Spain is a re-creation of our own days; but it has made, since the... more...

The mantle of evening is veiling the sky,And over the landscape its soft shadows lie;The old year is passing, a new year will reign,Ere earth shall awaken to day-dawn again. Dear Grandma has folded her knitting away,And muses alone at the close of the day;While the old clock ticks solemnly off, one by one,The moments yet left to the year almost done. Out from the shadows fast filling the room,Out from... more...

"Quite impossible, as you see, to start without an introduction," laughed Ivan. "Well, then, I mean to place the event described in the poem in the sixteenth century, an age—as you must have been told at school—when it was the great fashion among poets to make the denizens and powers of higher worlds descend on earth and mix freely with mortals... In France all the notaries'... more...

"Every state,Allotted to the race of man below,Is in proportion, doom'd to taste some sorrow."—Rowe. The Ion family were at home again after their summer on the New Jersey coast. It was a delightful morning early in October: the dew-drops on the still green grass of the neatly kept lawn sparkled in the rays of the newly risen sun; the bright waters of the lakelet also, as, ruffled by the... more...