LETTER FROM CHEVALIER BUNSEN. Charlottenberg, near Heidelberg, 10th October, 1857. Dear Sir,—It is now about five months since you expressed to me a wish that I might be induced to imbody, in a few pages, my views on the peculiar interest I attached—as you had been informed by a common friend—to the most popular German novel of the age, Gustav Freytag's Soll und Haben. I confess I was at... more...

MYSTERY OF CARMEL The Mission floor was with weeds o'ergrown,And crumbling and shaky its walls of stone;Its roof of tiles, in tiers and tiers,Had stood the storms of a hundred years.An olden, weird, medieval styleClung to the mouldering, gloomy pile,And the rhythmic voice of the breaking wavesSang a lonesome dirge in its land of graves.As I walked in the Mission old and gray—The Mission Carmel... more...

CHAPTER I THE JOURNAL OF DESIDERIUS At that time I was but ten years old, my brother Lorand sixteen; our dear mother was still young, and father, I well remember, no more than thirty-six. Our grandmother, on my father's side, was also of our party, and at that time was some sixty years of age; she had lovely thick hair, of the pure whiteness of snow. In my childhood I had often thought how dearly... more...

I With the production at Paris in the spring of 1902 of Claude Debussy's Pelléas et Mélisande, based on the play of Maeterlinck, the history of music turned a new and surprising page. "It is necessary," declared an acute French critic, M. Jean Marnold, writing shortly after the event, "to go back perhaps to Tristan to find in the opera house an event so important in certain respects... more...

CHAPTER I Alick Craven, who was something in the Foreign Office, had been living in London, except for an interval of military service during the war, for several years, and had plenty of interesting friends and acquaintances, when one autumn day, in a club, Frances Braybrooke, who knew everybody, sat down beside him and began, as his way was, talking of people. Braybrooke talked well and was an... more...

The captain had learned to hate. It was his profession—and his personal reason for going on. But even hatred has to be channeled for its maximum use, and no truths exist forever. The battle alarm caught him in the middle of a dream, a dream that took place in a white house in a small town in Ohio, when both he and Alice had been very young and the grown adults he now called his children had really... more...

One critic, who was kind enough to look at this book in manuscript, recommended me to abandon the design of Publishing it, on the ground that my logic was too like all other logics; another suggested to me to cut out a considerable amount of new matter. The latter advice I have followed; the former has encouraged me to hope that I shall not be considered guilty of wanton innovation. The few novelties... more...

THE FIGHT OFF CAPE ST. VINCENT THE SCEPTRE OF THE SEA. "Old England's sons are English yet,Old England's hearts are strong;And still she wears her coronetAflame with sword and song.As in their pride our fathers died,If need be, so die we;So wield we still, gainsay who will,The sceptre of the sea. We've Raleighs still for Raleigh's part,We've Nelsons yet unknown;The pulses... more...

Begins the Story with a Peculiar Meeting. Necessity is the mother of invention. This is undoubtedly true, but it is equally true that invention is not the only member of necessity’s large family. Change of scene and circumstance are also among her children. It was necessity that gave birth to the resolve to travel to the end of the earth—of English earth at all events—in search of fortune, which... more...

FOREWORD Once in awhile, maybe, twenty-five or thirty years ago, they used to pack you off during the holidays for a visit on Somebody's Farm. Have you forgotten? You went with your little round head close clipped till all the scar places showed white and you came back with a mat of sunbleached hair, your face and hands and legs brown as a nut. Probably you treasure recollections of those boyhood... more...