THE WELL Two men stood in the billiard-room of an old country house, talking. Play, which had been of a half-hearted nature, was over, and they sat at the open window, looking out over the park stretching away beneath them, conversing idly. "Your time's nearly up, Jem," said one at length, "this time six weeks you'll be yawning out the honeymoon and cursing the man—woman I... more...

DICK BENYON'S OUTSIDER. A shrunken sallow old lady, dressed in rusty ill-shaped black and adorned with an evidently false 'front' of fair hair, sat in a tiny flat whose windows overlooked Hyde Park from south to north. She was listening to a tall loose-built dark young man who walked restlessly about the little room as he jerked out his thoughts and challenged the expression of hers. She... more...

'ARRY ON EQUALITY. Dear Charlie,—Bin down as a dab with that dashed heppydemick, dear boy. I 'ave bloomin' nigh sneezed my poor head orf. You know that there specie of toy Wot they call cup-and-ball! That's me, Charlie! My back seemed to open and shut, As the grippe-demon danced on my innards, and played pitch-and-toss with my nut. Hinfluenza be blowed! It licks hague and cholera... more...

SHELLEY AND THE MARRIAGE QUESTION. Now that marriage, like most other time-honoured institutions, has come to stand, a thing accused, at the bar of public opinion, it may be interesting to see what Shelley has to say about it. The marriage problem is a complex one, involving many questions not very easy to answer offhand or even after much consideration. What is marriage? Of divine or human... more...

THE COAST OF BOHEMIA There is a land not charted on all charts;Though many mariners have touched its coast,Who far adventuring in those distant parts,Meet ship-wreck there and are forever lost;Or if they e'er return, are soon once moreBorne far away by hunger for that magic shore. Its mystic mountains on the horizon piled,Some mariners have glimpsed when driven farOut of life's measured... more...

PREFACE: ON FLUCTUATIONS OF TASTE When Voltaire sat down to write a book on Epic Poetry, he dedicated his first chapter to "Differences of Taste in Nations." A critic of to-day might well find it necessary, on the threshold of a general inquiry, to expatiate on "Differences of Taste in Generations." Changes of standard in the arts are always taking place, but it is only with advancing... more...

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THE MONEY-BOX Sailormen are not good 'ands at saving money as a rule, said the night-watchman, as he wistfully toyed with a bad shilling on his watch-chain, though to 'ear 'em talk of saving when they're at sea and there isn't a pub within a thousand miles of 'em, you might think different. It ain't for the want of trying either with some of 'em, and I've... more...

CHAPTER I. There was once a man named Calphurnius, the son of Potitus, a presbyter, by nation a Briton, living in the village Taburnia (that is, the field of the tents, for that the Roman army had there pitched their tents), near the town of Empthor, and his habitation was nigh unto the Irish Sea. This man married a French damsel named Conchessa, niece of the blessed Martin, Archbishop of Tours; and... more...

CHAPTER I THE LATE MR. SKAGGS The death of Taswell Skaggs was stimulating, to say the least, inapplicable though the expression may seem. He attained the end of a hale old age by tumbling aimlessly into the mouth of a crater on the island of Japat, somewhere in the mysterious South Seas. The volcano was not a large one and the crater, though somewhat threatening at times, was correspondingly minute,... more...