Chapter 1: A Brush With The Robbers. "Help--help--help!" This cry, growing feebler at each repetition, was borne by the evening breeze to the ears of a traveller who was picking his way along the dark mazes of Epping Forest one cool, fresh October day. Instinctively he drew rein and listened, laying his band unconsciously upon the hilt of his poniard. "A woman's voice," he said... more...

Introduction For the sake of non-Lutheran readers it may be well, in a sketch of the story and problems of our churches, to present a short statement of their principles and to indicate in what respect these differ from the general attitude and beliefs of other churches. In doing so however the author does not presume to encroach upon the field belonging to the scholars of the church. He is not an... more...

THE WELSH PEOPLE Our God is a big man: a tall man much higher than the highest chapel in Wales and broader than the broadest chapel. For the promised day that He comes to deliver us a sermon we shall have made a hole in the roof and taken down a wall. Our God has a long, white beard, and he is not unlike the Father Christmas of picture-books. Often he lies on his stomach on Heaven's floor, an eye... more...

INTRODUCTION. Though it may not have been possible in the following pages to reproduce the elegant and incisive style of a master of French prose, not even the inadequacies of a translation can obscure the force of his argument. The only introduction, therefore, that seems possible must take the form of a request to the reader to study M. Faguet's criticism of modern democracy with the daily paper... more...

TO MY MOTHERMother, to whose valiant will,Battling long ago,What the heaping years fulfil,Light and song, I owe;Send my little book a-field,Fronting praise or blameWith the shining flag and shieldOf your name.It fell on a day I was happy,And the winds, the concave sky,The flowers and the beasts in the meadowSeemed happy even as I;And I stretched my hands to the meadow,To the bird, the beast, the... more...

INTRODUCTION Every now and then in our reading we come suddenly face to face with first things,—the very elemental sources beyond which no man may go. There is a distinct satisfaction in dealing with such beginnings, and, when they are those of literature, the sense of freshness is nothing short of inspiring. To share the same lofty outlook, to breathe the same high air with those who first sensed a... more...

About the end of the reign of the Emperor Paul I—that is to say, towards the middle of the first year of the nineteenth century—just as four o'clock in the afternoon was sounding from the church of St. Peter and St. Paul, whose gilded vane overlooks the ramparts of the fortress, a crowd, composed of all sorts and conditions of people, began to gather in front of a house which belonged to... more...

CHAPTER I THE FIRST SNOW-STORM "Where's Mother?" Meg and Bobby Blossom demanded the moment they opened the front door. It was the first question they always asked when they came home from school. Twaddles, their little brother, looked up at them serenely from the sofa cushion on which he sat cross-legged on the floor at the foot of the hall stairs. "Mother and Aunt Polly went... more...

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My Dear Sir, In every narrative, whether historical or biographical, authenticity is of the utmost consequence. Of this I have ever been so firmly persuaded, that I inscribed a former work to that person who was the best judge of its truth. I need not tell you I mean General Paoli; who, after his great, though unsuccessful, efforts to preserve the liberties of his country, has found an honourable... more...